


Fragmented Bonds of Our Old World

by Hierarchical



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Annette Sylvain and Marianne all transferred to the Black Eagles, Blood and Violence, Canon Compliant, Character Death, Crimson Flower, Crimson Flower Route, Death, Depression, Developing Friendships, Enemies to Friends, Explicit Language, F/F, F/M, Falling In Love, Fantasy, Female Friendship, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Black Eagles Route, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Black Eagles Route Spoilers, Forbidden Love, Friends to Enemies, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, Graphic Description, Hilda is Marianne's childhood friend!, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Long, Love Confessions, Major Character Injury, Male Friendship, Multi, Murder, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romantic Angst, Sexual Themes, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Treason, Violence, War, Worldbuilding, this fic is long
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2020-09-01 20:38:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 72,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20264185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hierarchical/pseuds/Hierarchical
Summary: Marianne von Edmund is a Leicester citizen and a former student at Garreg Mach Monastery. However, allying herself with the Empire at the Battle or Garreg Mach, she fears she’ll never have a normal life within her nation, especially since she plays the spy, sending letters to Emperor Edelgard in secret.Annette Fantine Dominic is a former citizen of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus turned Adrestia’s youngest general at the age of nineteen. Branded a criminal in her homeland, the thing she fears most of all is fighting the father she’s based her life around and the best friend she’s known for years.As the winds of war turn to hurricanes, they can both only hope the war ends soon before more damage is caused and the people they love are caught in the storm.





	1. Chapter 1

**Day 1 of the Verdant Rain Moon, 1182**

_The ceaseless rains that satiate the verdant landscape of Fódlan are accompanied by fierce winds and mighty roars of thunder. This abundance of rain, sparkling as it falls against beams of emerging sunlight, is a constant reminder to the people of Fódlan that the nature of war is ever wild and unpredictable._

* * *

It didn’t take long for Marianne to learn that when the world collapses around you, you not only lose track of time—you lose track of yourself. She could barely force her eyes open and her hands and fingers trembled as if they alone were caught in the midst of Leicester’s most dangerous tremors. She hated this feeling—and yet, she loved it.

To her, all the late nights spent writing to Adrestia were heavenly, even if her body was wracked with more than enough pain to make the toughest of soldiers to succumb. It was more than worth it in her eyes.

As the morning heralded dawn and the sun’s light shone faintly, obscured by her blinds, Marianne sighed a deep sigh that gave her a distinctive taste of the dryness that lingered in her mouth. The realization that she had pulled another all-nighter didn’t worry her, though—she was far too used to it by now—it was more or less the fact she hadn’t slept in two days.

She cursed under her breath, and fumbled with the blank pieces of lined paper on her desk, scattering them about until she found it. The letter she had received from Emperor Edelgard just last evening. So badly did she feel the urge to press it against her chest one last time—but she settled for reading it instead before she’d have to place it in the lockbox with the others.

_My dearest, Marianne,_

_I know it has been one month and two weeks since we’ve spoken last. I was hoping that I would be able to write to you sooner, however with the rallies within the Empire caused by those who have allied with the Kingdom, I’m sure it’s understandable to the reason as to why I have been absent for so long. I hope you’ll accept my apology._

_Regardless, how are you and Margrave Edmund? I do hope you both are in good health. You’ve told me that relations within the Leicester Alliance Roundtable are also a bit tense. Is that true? If so, we should find a better way to communicate. It won’t be long until they’re checking the content of our letters._

_Honestly, I wish we had the time to speak more, and face to face as well. I miss our conversations on the academy bench about all the different species of birds you’ve met in Leicester. I hope that despite everything that’s happened, you’ve still found some time to enjoy life. You’ve worked so hard for me and I do, truly, respect that._

_Regardless, there is something I wish to speak to you about when we meet face to face, and hopefully, that’ll be soon. Our group simply isn’t the same without you here with us, and in fact, Petra has been begging to see you again._

_However, I won’t keep you for too long. I’m sure you must be more than a little busy. Please write to me as soon as you can. I would love to hear from you sooner rather than later and spare no details about the current political affairs within the Alliance._

_With love, your dearest, Greta._

Marianne reread that first line again—_My dearest, Marianne._ She thought it was amazing how a mere comma could change an entire sentence, and how a mere sentence could make her face so red.

She knew that Edelgard’s use of it was to make it seem as if it a whirlwind romance had blossomed between her and an Imperial citizen with whom she had attended Garreg Mach. There were more upsides than downsides if her letters were read upon entry of Leicester. That, and it was generally a better look than her talking with the very same emperor many a citizen deemed as history’s worst tyrant. It was just a shame that they weren’t around one another long enough to learn some type of code.

Yet, the idea that Edelgard would ever see her that way—as crazy and impossible as it seemed—was more than satisfying, even if it was a simple fantasy. Clinging to those quixotic daydreams entertained her in a way she wasn’t quite sure of.

She always admired Edelgard, but more so the moment she declared war on the Church of Seiros. Such a display of power and confidence was… enthralling, to say the least. She always knew that Edelgard had the power to change the world, but to do it in such a tempestuous way was always something that Marianne adored about her.

She couldn’t wait to see her again.

“Marianne,” called her adoptive father, “are you awake?!”

With her eyes acquiescing to gravity, she yelled, “I am,” and proceeded to rub them tiredly. That was just like him. Breakfast at dawn, with the four years she had spent with him, she still wondered how he managed to catch glimpses of sunrise without fail every morning.

She sighed, stood up from her desk, then took a moment of pause. She felt the effects of fatigue on her body, and for a moment, considered submitting to them, before shaking her head and walking over to her bathroom.

As she looked in the mirror, she saw the monster staring back at her. Marianne swore she had never looked more awful in her life.

The things that ensnared her attention the first were her eyes. The dark circles that played around tawny irises marred her face with what may as well have been a body-concocted tar with how dark they were. She had them yesterday, but they were ten-times worse today.

In addition, her hair was strewn about like loose pieces of hay, her skin was pale, and on her face, had begun to hang loosely beneath her eyes, giving a once-pretty young woman the visage of a hag. She hated it—but she dreaded the fact that the only way to fix it was sleep. There was always so much to do.

She fixed her appearance the best she could, but combs, brushes and skin cream could only do so much. She considered herself lucky that she was able to reach something presentable within only twenty minutes, and hurried downstairs. She was immediately met with the smells of sizzling bacon and sugary coffee.

She found her father tending to the stove. They usually made breakfast together, but she wasn’t surprised to find him doing it herself. She was late, after all, and he probably had some important meeting with the Leicester Alliance Roundtable to scurry off to—he usually did.

“Good morning, Father,” she greeted from the doorway, smiling and placing her hand beneath her bust as she bowed—even though she knew he couldn’t see her. “I’m sorry I was late. I spent a lot of time getting ready… My deepest apologies.”

“Yes, you did,” he laughed, “but it’s not an issue. Take a seat; breakfast will be ready in a minute or two.”

She obeyed, seating herself at the mahogany table and placing her hand atop it, waiting patiently. She scanned the room but an accidental glimpse at his face pulled her attention. He had a gash. It was healing, but visibly still fresh.

“Father,” she started, concern clear in her voice, “that awful cut… How did you get it?”

He raised an eyebrow but soon caught wind of what she was talking about. He raised his thumb to rub it, then chuckled as he shook his head.

“This old thing?” he asked. “It’s nothing. A wound from another squabble at The Roundtable.”

“Oh… You all are resorting to violence now?”

“Possibly,” he answered, giving a half-hearted shrug.

She blinked rapidly. “_P-Possibly?!_ Father, you must understand my concern. If anything were to happen to you, I’d…”

She paused, ultimately silencing herself. She couldn’t deal with further fueling those pestering thoughts. She knew that The Alliance was slowly collapsing in on itself, but for this… It was frightening. Even though she knew she probably wanted this...

Despite living in Leicester, Marianne had labeled herself one of the biggest Empire allies—she did have the privilege of talking directly with the emperor, after all—but she didn’t want harm to come to her father above anything… She knew if she ever did properly join the Empire, she’d have to battle the classmates she had for an, albeit, short time in the Golden Deer before she transferred to the Black Eagles’ class, and she had long since made peace with that fact, but her father was another matter.

“Marianne, I’ll be fine,” he chuckled. “You should know better than anyone how such political affairs work. We all need one another. A death caused by a heated debate would benefit no one. The Alliance needs all five of us to function or the war will consume us all.”

“That’s true… I… apologize for worrying.”

“Don’t. You still apologize over nothing these days. It completely fine to be worried about your father, dear. At least it’s better to see you’ve gotten more vocal these days. I swear, before you had gone to Garreg Mach, you’d speak a total of twenty words a week. Look at how far you’ve come!”

As another one of her father’s boisterous laughs echoed throughout the room, Marianne couldn’t help but turn her head as her cheeks reddened. She hadn’t given it too much thought most of the time like she used to, but she knew he was right. She had made progress; good progress.

And yet, for some reason, Marianne felt as if she was inadequate—like she was nowhere near where he talked about. She wasn’t sure why; she was never sure why. What she did know was that she still had work to do.

Her thoughts were cut off by a loud yawn that may as well have nearly caused her jaw to fall to the ground. She didn’t think much of it at first, she too fatigued to care, but once reason and awareness returned, so did embarrassment. 

Covering her lips, she softly squeaked, “Sorry…”

And her father laughed. “No sleep again tonight, Marianne?”

Her gaze turned to the tiled floor; her hands found their way folded in her lap. “I’m sorry, Father…”

“You shouldn’t apologize to me,” he said. “You should apologize to yourself. What you’re doing isn’t healthy to your body, Marianne. What would you do if you collapsed one day…?”

The savory smells of eggs and bacon hit Marianne’s nose the moment her plate touched the table, delivered with the brightest of smiles, despite his comment. His breakfast was always the best, and even after years and years of the same meals, she couldn’t help but look forward to them every time.

Marianne’s lips curled into a smile, but she was suddenly pulled out of her delectation when her father suddenly asked, “What would you do then? The Edmund family would lose their only heir, but not only. Your friends would miss you; I would miss you. I wouldn’t want to lose you over some poems.”

_Poems,_ Marianne repeated in her mind—then bit her lip.

She always felt guilty whenever he said that. She always hated lying to him, but she knew she had to—for the good of the Fódlan. One white lie was worth the Empire’s cause; the cause she believed in.

“T-They’re important to me,” Marianne said. She paused for a moment to concoct another lie before she continued, “The one I wrote last night was one about a note to my past self.”

“When you attended Garreg Mach?”

As she nodded, a nervous smile overtook her lips. “Yes! Exactly, Father. I worked quite hard on it…”

“Oh?” He blinked. “I would love to read it sometime. Unless it’s personal, that is?”

“Um—”

An unanticipated knock on the door suddenly came. It was in that moment, Marianne thought, once again, perhaps the goddess did exist because she thought she was far too lucky for that to be mere coincidence.

The sound of her gulp was drowned out by the confusion she and her father both shared as their eyes moved to the door, and then, they shared curious glances, as if to ask the other, _Do you know who that is?_

“I-I’ll answer it,” Marianne stuttered, slamming her hands on the table a bit too hard and accidentally making the dishes and cups shake.

Her father’s response was a mere haphazard shrug as his fingers snaked through the handle of the teacup and he raised it to his lips to take a sip. 

Marianne was admittedly more than a bit anxious; she always was answering the door nowadays. She always felt as if an Alliance soldier would turn up at her door with accusations of her supporting the Empire.

One did; her jaw nearly fell agape as she opened the door.

Eyes wide, Marianne exclaimed, “C-Commander Goneril…?!”

The woman only pouted, placing her hands on her hips in a fashion she had grown accustomed to. “It’s ‘Sergeant Goneril’ now, actually. And you’re still calling me that? I’m in common clothes, sheesh! Just call me by my name. Say it with me now—Hilda.” With a giggle, she chanted, “Hilda, Hilda, Hilda,” softly, a snicker following soon after.

It was in a way Marianne remembered from a time when innocence salted the earth. It made her… smile. Even though she hadn’t seen Hilda in ages, she was happy she hadn’t lost her cheerfulness, even if her arrogance still came as compliments.

“Well, Hilda, you’re… certainly in a good mood today… It’s nice to see you again, but it’s a surprise. I haven’t seen you in six months… Um, color me more than a bit surprised…! I’m not entirely sure what to say…!”

Her hands found their way in front of her, her fingers brushing the end of her peach-strewn blouse. “It’s funny, that. That you’ve gone six months without seeing me and that you don’t know what to say. Same old Marianne, I see. You should smile more.”

Anxious, Marianne raised her index fingers to the sides of her lips, then she actually frowned, confused by Hilda’s words.

“Am I not smiling?” she asked. “I-I thought I would be… I’m sorry…”

“Sheesh, and still easy to mess with too.” Her smile spread wider and she lightly punched Marianne in the shoulder. “Never change, Marianne… Though, you should sleep more. Your eyes look awful.”

Marianne lightly rubbed her shoulder, her smile gradually turning less shy as her anxiousness faded; that’s when realization set in. She was talking to _Hilda._ Comment about her eyes aside, nine times out of ten, she acted this way because she wanted something.

Doubt settled in her mind—but she knew she couldn’t ask outright. She didn’t doubt the fact that she _was_ happy to see her either, but something just didn’t add up.

“I haven’t been sleeping well recently, but that doesn’t matter. So, what has you so cheerful today…?” she asked, clearing her throat soon after. “Why are you here?”

“It does matter though, Marianne…” She frowned. “Sleep is important. Regardless, I’m happy to see you. I wanted to invite you to tea.”

“Tea? At an hour past dawn…?”

“Yup. Is that really so strange? I haven’t seen you in such a long time. I thought I’d come to you when I’d have some time on my hands. With Empire and Kingdom dastards trying to kill me and managing political affairs, it’s a _little bit easy_ to see why I’m so busy.”

Marianne looked back and shot a glance at her father, who had been completely silent up until now, a glance that he immediately returned. As he raised the cup to his lips once more, she saw it. The doubt that they shared.

She was relieved, at least she knew it wasn’t her paranoia taking the reigns of her thoughts, but that sense of comfort was short-lived. Maybe her thoughts about that Alliance soldier weren’t too far from fact…

Still, Marianne deemed it unlikely for Hilda to lead her into an ambush. She knew she could be rude, even perhaps a bit nosy, but one thing Hilda wasn’t was malevolent. She weighed her odds carefully, and curiosity begged her to roll the dice, so she did.

“All right…” Marianne sighed. “I’ll come to tea with you. It would be nice to catch up… At what time would you like to meet…?”

“Is right now okay?” she asked with a coy smile.

“Right now?!” Marianne blinked a few words, letting the validity of Hilda’s words settle in her mind. Even though part of her saw this coming, she still was in disbelief that, yes, Hilda Goneril _did_, in fact, invite her to tea before one in the afternoon. “W-Where would we even get the tea now…? Will we walk over to your residence…?”

“You’re so silly. Don’t you know ‘going to tea’ is a saying by now? We’re not _actually_ going to have tea. More like a picnic. Edmund has excellent beachside. It would be a shame if I didn’t catch another glimpse before,” she sighed then groaned, “more paperwork.” She stretched. “I really need a break.”

Margrave Edmund cleared his throat. “Hilda, dear, you know it would be a shame if I cooked all this breakfast for no reason. I _was_ looking forward to having a nice breakfast with my daughter. Why, all this food will go to waste!”

“It’ll be fine,” Hilda said. “She can take it with her. It’s just a few minutes walk, after all. I need to talk to her about something really important. Can’t you help a girl out, Mr. Edmund? I _promise_ I won’t keep her out for long. _And_, I’ll put in a good word for you to my father.” 

__

__

__

Margrave Edmund stroked the grey hairs of her salt and pepper beard and closed his eyes in faux consideration. “Well,” he started, before pausing. “I suppose if you really could… It would prevent me from getting another bruise… If so, I’ll let you have her for an hour or two…” 

__

__

__

“Great!” Hilda clapped her hands together. “You heard the man, Marianne. Let’s get going!” 

__

__

__

“Oh, but the food will get cold…” she said as her eyes looked to the floor, somber as midnight rain. Then they flicked back up to Hilda, then to her own clothes. “Oh, and I’m still in my nightgown too…! Oh dear…!” Marianne blushed—sighing as she began to switch her feet, her body begging for movement. “I’ll hurry, then… I’ll be back soon…!” 

__

__

__

As much as Marianne didn’t want her breakfast to become cold and hard, she decided to resign to her fate, regardless. She was more than a little anxious to get it over with—all of it. Skipping the futilities of conversation the way she did gave her time to prepare—for the best, and the worst. 

__

__

__

She couldn’t help but wonder, though, what Hilda had planned. And that feeling only satiated her thoughts when, in the midst of her fleeing sprint, she heard Hilda whisper to herself, her tone sullen. 

__

__

__

“Yup… Same old Marianne… Never change…” 

__

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__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also follow me on [Twitter here](https://twitter.com/Hierarchycal) if you wanna chat or for updates regarding this work!


	2. Chapter 2

The thing Marianne loved the most about her Edmund was the accompanying sound of the roaring sea that she could hear ever-so-slightly while doing mundane tasks. The sound helped to calm her in her days of youthful anxiety and empowered her in adult creativity, and yet, now, more than ever, her fear was at an all-time high.

She held Hilda’s hand as they walked along the shoreline and she constantly threw glances towards the sea, curious if an Alliance vanguard was ever-near. But no matter how often she looked, there wasn’t a single ship in sight. Not even one that she hallucinated.

Still, her muscles tensed, and mentally, she readied herself for anything. She dreaded the thought that it would be Hilda herself to harm her, she never doubted that it would happen eventually… but the fact that it could be now. It hurt—but she was ready.

“Marianne,” called Hilda, pulling the other young noble’s eyes away from the sea and to hers. “Do you think this is a good spot to set up?”

Marianne studied her surroundings one final time, then looked to the sky. It was unnaturally sunny for this time of the month; she considered herself lucky. Ambush or not, the last thing she wanted was to be caught in the rain.

Deciding the conditions were suitable enough, Marianne said, “Yes, I think so. Can you help me?”

Kneeling to the ground, Marianne opened the picnic basket she had brought with her from home and pulled out the blanket, shaking it to let it soar in the whirling wind. Hilda opened her hand to catch it, and together, they laid it against the sand and both sat. Marianne pulled the basket closer to her and beginning to set the dishes onto the blanket.

What Marianne had said earlier was correct—she really didn’t know what to say to Hilda. Her labor was scored by the sound of wind and sea, and nothing more. Since childhood, she had too many tea parties with Hilda and somehow they’d always find something to speak about. But now? Nothing.

Marianne, curiously, decided to shoot Hilda a quick glance; that’s when she saw it. The solemn look that overtook her face that was completely uncharacteristic of her. Hilda was somehow always smiling—even if she was evading work or battle—but now it wasn’t just a look of sadness, it was one of hopelessness. Marianne didn’t dare inquire. She didn’t know if Hilda wanted her to or not, but she just… decided it was best that she didn’t, for whatever reason she wasn’t sure of.

Once Marianne had finished, she offered Hilda a scone and a bottle of lemonade with a soft, reassuring smile. Hilda merely said, “Thanks” as she took them, raised the scone to her lips, and nibbled.

It was Marianne who decided to start the conversation. “I-It’s been a long time,” she said, trying her best to sound cheerful in order to hoist away the tensions that had formed by simply just being together. “How is the life of a soldier?”

Hilda let out one of her usual giggles, though, it was drier than usual. “Tiring as always. It’s always moving up and down Leicester day in and day out, but I guess I got to see some neat places, so I can’t really complain all that much. I’ve been in places near the Kingdom and Empire that I wouldn’t have seen before without this war—as grim as it sounds—and I get to spend most of my time stationed Derdriu, so that’s nice.”

“That’s good,” Marianne said, cutting a piece of the white of the egg she was eating. “It’s always good to look on the bright side.”

Hilda couldn’t help but chuckle at her words. “Well, you know me. If I’m forced to do work, it’s generally best that I find some way to enjoy it. There are worse places to be stationed in than a nice city like Dedriu. So, I think it’s best I try to look on the bright side, at least, until the war is over… Then I have plenty of time to lament until how terrible everything I had to do was.”

Hilda laughed and Marianne couldn’t help but smile. It was instinct at this point; this whole conversation just felt so nostalgic. 

“How is… whatever you’re doing that makes it so you like you’re a Demonic Beast?” Hilda asked. “You know?”

Hilda pointed to her own eyes, then Marianne did the same and sighed, frowning.

_I really do need to get some more sleep,_ she thought. _She’s right… I look worse than I did a year ago…_

“You mean handling politics and the like?” Marianne paused for a moment, then answered, “Fine. It’s what I did when I was younger, I just do more like giving my father ideas to solve disputes. I don’t receive compensation or anything like that… I’m trying to write a few poems, though. I’m planning to have them published as a collection so we can make some extra money.”

“Oh, I knew that you wrote some here and there, but I didn’t know you were trying to become an author. May I sneak a read one of them these days? I can’t say I’m not curious, you know. I bet they’re lovely.”

Marianne blushed, shyly turning her head away, her lips curled into a self-effacing smile. “Oh shush… You’ll get to read them when they’re published, don’t worry… I’m sure I’ll still have a lot to edit… I already have already… I’m never satisfied with them…”

“_Come on_, Marianne! I’m sure they’re fine. You’re usually too hard on yourself. You’re probably overreacting a little, and _plus_,” she said, placing a cheerful emphasis on the word, “wouldn’t it be nice to let your best friend read your poems?”

Marianne froze immediately; so much so she could feel the hairs standing up on the back of her neck. Best friend. _Best friend._ Marianne couldn’t help but replay Hilda’s voice in her mind to search for the venom laced within those words. She found nothing.

Hilda had never said such a thing to her. Sure, they were good friends—but it was rare to see her display such clear affection in large quantity. It made Marianne feel uneasy with how unnatural it was—even if she felt guilty for it. One simple question threw off her whole mood bittersweet mood, and anxiousness from the fear of what she couldn’t quite understand settled in its place.

“Marianne?” she heard Hilda call. “Um, Earth to Marianne?”

Frantically—and almost feverishly—Marianne shook her head, setting the plate onto the blanket. “No, um,” her fingers found their way together, locked and playing on the tip of her knuckles, “I mean… _sure_…? You did say we were best friends after all…”

Marianne cursed herself internally for losing her composure at such a crucial moment. Flustered and furious with herself as she was, she couldn’t help but admit that it was… nice… to be called someone’s best friend. That someone had thought of her that way; hearing it—even if it was genuine or not—touched her heart… especially because she had considered Hilda the same for a long time.

Her right hand found its way away from the other and down to her thigh to pat the combat knife she had strapped and concealed beneath the winter-colored sundress she was wearing and sighed heavily—mentally that is. 

Emotion begged her to consider unnatural decisions like pull it out or chuck it into the ocean, but she knew those were the least sensible things to do. So, she steeled herself and steered away from such thoughts.

The sigh became physical and Marianne grabbed another bottle of lemonade from the basket, uncapped it, then raised it to her lips—then raised her index finger, signaling for Hilda to wait. She downed half of the bottle like a miserable aunt did wine and gasped audibly, a nervous smile pulling at her lips.

“So,” Marianne started, then paused. It took her a second to think of a useful question, but she finally asked, “How is Holst…?”

As Marianne asked that question, Hilda’s entire face darkened as if a sudden storm had invaded a bright day. It wasn’t just a look of sadness, but one of genuine anguish. It didn’t take long for Marianne to figure out something was wrong.

Before she could ask what, however, Hilda’s muscles tensed, and her lips formed a bitter, resentful smile that was more than disturbing and miserable to the core.

“My brother is dead, Marianne. The news came yesterday morning and my entire family has been in really upset about it. I can’t… take all my younger siblings crying all the time, so I came out here… To spend time with you, I guess.” Hilda shrugged morosely, turning her gaze towards the ocean. “I’m not having all that much fun now, though. Now that the topic has come up…”

That prick of guilt immediately turned to a pang. Frankly, Marianne felt awful about what she had asked—but first and foremost, how she felt. She couldn’t believe that she had once thought that Hilda spouted words of faux friendship and cried crocodile tears to hoodwink her.

What she hated the most was the fact that she couldn’t sign onto that fact, though. She still felt as if it _could_ be something like that. It didn’t mean it had to be, of course, but she never discounted the possibility.

Her body knew better, though. Without thinking about it, Marianne moved forward and wrapped her arms around her, pulling her into the tightest embrace her frail body would allow. Her guilt was only amplified, however, once she heard Hilda sniffling. That hurt the most.

She couldn’t remember the last time Hilda had cried real tears; in fact, it must’ve been half a decade or so ago. Back then, she was but a young girl. She had grown into a woman, now. Marianne thought it was amazing how time left so quickly, leaving behind only scars from the past. She remembered them being happy together. She couldn’t believe that mere minutes ago she had prepared herself to end her life.

That thought brought on her own tears. They hurt; the whole situation hurt. But even though doubt dared to prod at her mentality, she refused to let it get to her morals. She knew that siding with the Empire was the right thing, and that she probably couldn’t protect Hilda, but still. The daunting reality of such a soul-crushing fact stabbed her heart with barbed blades.

Marianne couldn’t help but blurt out, “H-Hilda, I’m so sorry… I-I…”

She wasn’t sure exactly what she was apologizing for. Maybe it was for her insensitive question that she thought innocent. Perhaps siding with an enemy nation that she believed in. But she had to—the guilt would have made her combust if she didn’t.

The firm grip Marianne held around Hilda soon loosened, however, once she felt her begin to pull away. Crestfallen eyes stared deeply into one another as if looking right past the soul. At that moment, it was like the world faded away, and it was just them.

Hilda forced a smile—she usually was the one to do so when they were both low-spirited—and said, “Don’t worry, Marianne… These things happen in war…”

_These things happen in war,_ Marianne repeated in her head. _What a harrowing statement._

And yet, Hilda was right. That was war. People that others love die. They had died already. She had, in part, become numb to that fact. 

Before, she didn’t like thinking about such tragedies like war when the seeds of violence were fresh. But now, they had matured, grown study. So had her pragmatic way of thinking. She hadn’t exactly thought about it… but now, she wasn’t so sure that she liked that she had become so… desensitized.

Admittedly, while she did know Holst and it saddened her that he had fallen in battle, it was Hilda’s tears that really broke her. She wasn’t sure how to feel about that… Normally, she’d alleviate the guilt and uncertainty by saying a prayer to the goddess. But there was no sense in praying to a goddess that didn’t exist.

The only way to solve the problem was by doing; Marianne knew that. So she decided that she wouldn’t let the pain get to her for long. There was a war that she had to find a way to end soon.

Marianne gritted her teeth, then forced a smile. “Yes, you’re right. These things _do_ happen in war… I am so sorry to hear what happened to Holst, and may his soul rest peacefully, but… I have to ask. Was it Empire, Kingdom, or Almyra?”

“Almyran soldiers,” Hilda admitted, a venom in her voice that Marianne was so desperately searching for before. “They attacked his post on the outskirts… They… killed everyone down to the last man… They’re getting more powerful and that’s a major issue. I’m worried they’ll invade the cities soon. Claude is as well.”

Marianne dried the remaining tears that trailed down her cheek and said, “Well I think that a full-scale invasion would be… a couple of months off at the very least. The Alliance still undoubtedly has stronger soldiers. And most important of all, the best archers in Fódlan. Even well-trained Almyran wyverns and their riders would be easily felled by a well-aimed barrage of arrows. I’d say the chances are still in Leicester’s favor.”

“I know,” Hilda chuckled dryly. “I know you’re good with that kind of stuff. You were taught by Professor Byleth, after all. You’ve probably got war strategy and the like down to the letter.”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Marianne admitted in both modesty and nervousness. “It’s… just basic strategy… It’s nothing too impressive.” She frowned. “My time in the Black Eagles was filled with those sort of lectures. That was always one thing about the professor. She wanted us to be able to win any battles on our own, and she believed that even if we were outmatched, it would be through a good strategy. She’s shown that to be true time and time again, after all.”

“I’d bet… That _may_ be why I have a favor to ask of you.”

Hilda turned her head away, which caused Marianne to raise an eyebrow. The enigmatic nature of her statement caused her chest to tighten ever-so-slightly, and she wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was the tension—her body preparing itself for the worst. To get rid of the feeling, Marianne raised the bottle of lemonade to her lips and sipped.

Hilda sighed, “I would—well, _Claude_ would—like you to join the Alliance.”

Marianne suddenly felt the need to spit out the lemonade she was drinking but settled for swallowing instead. She blinked rapidly, trying to make reason of what Hilda had just said. Such a request seemed so unreal she felt the need to confirm it.

“I… I heard that correctly, right?” Marianne asked. “You said that _Claude_ wanted _me_ to join the Leicester Alliance of all things?”

“Yes,” Hilda said, anxiously nodding afterward. “That’s correct… I did ask that…”

“Hilda,” Marianne started, brushing back the aquamarine locks from her face, “you know that I know you can undoubtedly find a better healer somewhere within Leicester. I’m extremely out of practice… It’s strange to think Claude would even consider recruiting me in the midst of war to turn the tides of it… Especially since I don’t doubt he wants to appoint me commander of two-hundred soldiers or so… He’d be wasting resources on me, most likely, for little in return.”

“A better healer?” Hilda’s eyes went wide. “I don’t know that you know that I know this, but you were at The Battle for Garreg Mach, you know. A historical event that made the books. You were there, and you _won_.”

“Which is _exactly why_ he shouldn’t even have _considered me!_” Marianne said, a bit too aggressively. She frowned, a mild irritation from the whole situation starting to boil within. “I’ve made an enemy of Faerghus. Faerghus is focused on the Empire at the moment. It would be far from wise to attempt to ally with me because of that. They’ll immediately turn their attention to Leicester the moment they realize I’m in the army and I’m not so sure that we can weigh our chances with the Kingdom’s knights _and_ the Knights of Seiros at the same time. One full-scale invasion could kill thousands of soldiers and civilians alike—and we both know King Dimitri isn’t in the right state of mind. It’s bad politically for Leicester.”

“Marianne, _that’s_ why he wants you in the army,” Hilda stated. “He isn’t interested in your combat prowess, but in your mind. You’re one of the smartest, most hard-working people that I know. The way you’ve formed strategies and talked about politics today was simply amazing. I can see why he’s interested in you. And I agree.”

“But I don’t understand. It doesn’t take a genius to know that if Claude really did stop defending Leicester and decided to go on the offensive in a similar way as King Dimitri and Emperor Edelgard, he would go for the Empire first. I… don’t doubt her wants her dead. So I just… don’t know why he’d pick me…”

“I can’t pretend to know,” Hilda admitted, “but I know why I want you there. Do you want to know why I was demoted?”

“I wasn’t exactly keen on asking, admittedly. I thought you’d find it intrusive.”

“Well,” Hilda started, smacking her lips together, “I wanted a smaller squadron… So I asked Claude if I could be demoted. He begged me to remain a Commander, but I couldn’t deal with it. There were so many lives in my hands that I had to command; it was rough. I… wasn’t able to deal with that. Not now. Not after Holst… I want you there. I’d feel a lot more comfortable if you were calling the shots, honestly… Even if I was part of your squadron.”

“Hilda,” Marianne grabbed both sides of her face and gently rubbed her thumbs against her cheeks. “I… want this war to end as quickly as possible. I don’t want Leicester to have issues with the Kingdom when we didn’t initiate them. I’d rather it—being the weakest army in Fódlan—not get into any fights that it can’t win… Holst is gone, yes, but you’re still here. While it sounds like a good idea on paper, it isn’t thinking logically. I understand how you feel. I do. But now isn’t the time for that. The Kingdom is an enemy you wouldn’t want to trifle with in the midst of another war with the Almyrans.”

“I… I understand…” Hilda sighed. “I just… wish that there was an easier way. This war is way too rough, it’s just getting worse by the day. I mean, we haven’t had many invasions yet, luckily. From the Kingdom and Empire, anyway. We’ve gotten them here and there, but they generally keep one another busy.”

“They do, and that’s a good thing. You can focus on Almyran forces… You can’t go dying on me, all right? Not yet…”

Marianne sighed at her own words. _Not yet._ She was sure that she wanted to say, ‘not ever,’ but the fact that she couldn’t guarantee that stung. She didn’t want to give Hilda, nor herself a false hope to cling to. Saying not ever when the future of Leicester was so obfuscated wouldn’t sit well with her soul.

Part of her wondered why she was so concerned with Leicester’s safety. If it was weakened, the Empire would be able to end the war more quickly. It would take one quick trip to Dedriu and the entire Alliance would fall and the remaining nobles would hurry off to join forces with the Empire.

It was something about the ongoing war with the Almyrans, though, that made her stomach churn. She knew that Dedriu wasn’t all that far from the land of Almyra—and those folks were sometimes bred and born for battle.

Marianne was conflicted about her advice, but she wasn’t sure if she could live knowing that Hilda died to Almyran soldiers when she wanted her to live so desperately. Even if it was a setback to the Empire, Marianne… wasn’t sure if she could endanger the lives of the people she cared about. Edmund and Dedriu were prime targets for an Almyran fleet’s attack. She couldn’t give them the chance.

“I promise then,” Hilda said with a soft sigh, extending her pinky. “I promise I won’t die on you, Marianne. I’ll fend off the rest of the Almyrans and I’ll… make Holst proud.”

“You’ve made me very proud already, Hilda,” Marianne admitted with a soft smile. “Now, you shouldn’t let this get to you. You’re usually so silly and happy. It calms me and makes me happy, too. So, you should smile more. Even in dark times.”

Hilda curiously raised her fingers to the sides of her lips. “Huh, am I not smiling?”

“You’ve been frowning this whole time.”

Hilda couldn’t help but giggle at her statement. “Oh? I thought I would be. I have a friend like you who I can count on, after all. A very good friend. In fact, I remember telling you something similar just a little while ago.”

“Oh, you’re right, yes!” Marianne exclaimed, eyes wide in the realization. “I… guess I took your advice to heart.”

“Or you delivered your own and we’re more similar than we seem.” Hilda stood up and dusted away the pesky grains of sand from her clothes. “Regardless of the reason, I can’t die now, can I? I’ve made a promise. But I want you to promise me something.”

“Hm?” Marianne hummed. “What sort of promise?”

“A promise that when the war with the Almyrans is over, we’ll come here. And we’ll have tea again. Like we did today… Like we did when we were little.”

“I’m not so busy that I’m unable to have tea with you, Hilda. We can have tea anytime… You’d just need to drop by.”

“Well, that time it’ll be special. More special than all the other times. We’ll celebrate something very special.”

“Oh, well, if you insist…” Marianne smiled, extending her pinky to wrap around Hilda’s. “I look forward to it.”

Their simple pact made by their fingers quickly became a more intimate touch when Hilda’s remaining  
fingers quickly found refuge between Marianne’s, nestled comfortably—and with a strong grip at that.

Marianne giggled at the thought of Hilda not wanting to let go. But she supposed that she was the same. She didn’t resist at all, instead, relishing the feeling of her half-course touch.

“Thank you for today, Marianne.” And like that, their fingers fled from one another. “It means a lot. But I do have a war meeting to get to. You already know I’ll be late.”

“How late…?” Marianne asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Only about five or ten minutes!” Hilda gave a haphazard shrug. “I’m not _that_ irresponsible anymore, you know. You need to have more faith in me, Marianne! It’s not like me turning up thirty minutes late to lectures.”

“It’s still a war, Hilda… If it were me, well, I’d turn up thirty minutes early…!”

“Well, that’s why you’re you and I’m me,” Hilda bantered. “But I understand. I’m honestly only late because I want to walk you home.” 

She took a moment of pause and Marianne opened her lips ever so slightly to oppose her statement, but immediately, Hilda cleared her throat.

“And I will be taking you home,” she said. “You don’t have a choice, Marianne. You’ve done all of this for me.”

Marianne knew better to contest anything that Hilda actually set her mind to do, so she just nodded and extended her hand. Hilda took it instantly and pulled her to her feet. 

They stared another, and Marianne saw it. She saw the smile that she had come to know so well over the years; the smile with a brightness that rivaled the summer sun. It, too, made Marianne smile.

Wordlessly, they walked along the beachside, their smiles remaining on their face—that was until Marianne’s bittersweet thoughts came. She was happy about everything that happened today; she needed this feeling every now and then during the tough times of the unpredictable wars. 

But at the end of the day, Hilda was still an enemy, friend or not. She believed in Edelgard’s world. Not Claude’s. She knew she couldn’t forget that… and for once, she didn’t know what to do. That lack of control started to drive her crazy.

“Marianne,” she heard Hilda call. “What’s wrong?”

Marianne didn’t even notice the ugly frown that decided to mar her face. Instead, she forced a smile and simply shook her head.

“Bad thoughts,” she said. “I’m thinking about bad things. About the war and all that. It doesn’t sit right with me.”

“Well, as you said, we just need to get it over with as soon as possible. We should talk again soon anyway. I enjoyed today a lot. I’ll find the time. I promise.”

“Okay,” Marianne said. “You know where to find me, then.”

“You never leave home after all,” Hilda giggled. “I’m sure I’d know where to look.

Hilda’s giggles turned into laughs and Marianne simply sardonically rolled her eyes, yet, the smile returned. She liked that Hilda had that effect on her.

But that only meant that she had more to write about to Emperor Edelgard tonight. About everything that had happened today. Even her sentimental feelings, as worried as she was about telling Edelgard about them. She had the right to know, and first and foremost, she was her friend. A good friend.

The friend she had believed in. And whose world she wanted to see come into fruition.

No matter the cause…

_No matter the cause… I must follow Edelgard. And end this war as quickly as possible. Before it consumes Hilda..._


	3. Chapter 3

**Day 2 of the Verdant Rain Moon, 1182**

Annette awoke suddenly at three o'clock sharp, and the first thing she realized was that she had once again committed a sin punishable by death in Faerghus. She knew she had because she felt that familiar deathly chill run down her spine, and with a glance at her hands, even in near-darkness, she could tell her skin was pale.

She always had nightmares, even when she was little, but she never had them as often as she did now. She was no longer a child. She was nineteen years old—a full adult—and yet, she once again found herself a sniveling mess in her bed. Just like she used to be when she was nine or ten.

Then, she would call for her mother, who would cuddle her in her arms and rock her back to sleep, but there were no such pleasures at Garreg Mach anymore. It was a military base now, after all. And Mercedes was gone too. 

Annette had gotten used to the suffocating loneliness, but she had never quite understood it. She was surrounded by other soldiers—by friends—day in and day out. They ate together, trained together, worked together, but it was never the same.

Not even bothering to step out of bed, she sloppily reached over to her nightstand, hastily running her hand all around it before her fingers barely grazed the custom embroidery on the edge of her notebook. With a groan, she pulled it towards her, easily found her matchbox soon after, then pulled that towards her as well.

She lazily struck a match, lighting a flame which she soon applied to her candle before blowing it out. She dried her tears and opened the notebook she had come to cherish. It was a gift from Bernadetta for her eighteenth birthday, but instead of using it for military tactics or notes on magic, it was her dream journal, ever since she had first started having that nightmare.

She flipped through pages upon pages of near-identical notes and reread them to herself; she always did. She wanted to remind herself that it was only a dream. A very realistic dream, but a dream nonetheless.

“I go into Faerghus, leading a charge of thousands. Edelgard is there with me; so is Hubert. We wave the banner of the Adrestian Empire and the Kingdom does theirs. King Dimitri is leading the charge. Everyone from the Blue Lions is on the front lines. They command their battalions to go specifically for me. I am slashed, stabbed, crushed, and pierced with arrows.”

Annette’s skin went colder once her eyes caught a glimpse of the next line that she knew so well. She took a deep breath before continuing to read aloud, “Father is watching it—from the other side of the battlefield. He’s giving me that same look he always does. He’s looking at me like I’m a stranger. Like I’m not his daughter. He doesn’t help me. He just has a disappointed look in his eyes; it’s almost angry.”

Annette felt her mouth grow dry and paused. She had that dream over and over, but reading that part again made her cry; it always did. She bit her quivering lip to hold it still and flipped the page.

“Then, coming from the frontlines, Mercie comes to help me. She’s looking at me, concerned, and tells the other soldiers to stand down. An argument breaks out, but she doesn’t care.”

Annette felt something inside her die again from the umpteenth time as her eyes went to the next line and sighed dejectedly, “I decide to seize the opportunity and stab Mercie right between her ribs. My hands moved on their own and I had no control. Her smile fades and she calls me a murderer, and I watch the light leave her eyes. And I die. In various ways.” She shook her head, drying the tears that reappeared that painted rivers along her cheeks. “Yup. Same stupid dream. Always is.”

She resisted the urge to chuck the notebook back onto the nightstand, instead, opting to put it back carefully before hastily blowing out the flame and pulling the covers over her head. She couldn’t even find it in herself to journal it like she did every night. She wanted to be done with it. She was more than tired of that dream haunting her every night and reducing her to tears.

She was quickly becoming tired of all of it. All of the pain the war brought. It was a weight that she couldn’t hope to bear, and yet, she somehow managed to be at the heart of what caused her so much suffering.

Annette expected that at her age she’d be graduating Garreg Mach or going to another magic school or helping with managing Dominic territory; maybe even have a boyfriend, if she was lucky. The last thing on her mind was becoming a general in a nation that wasn’t even her own.

Clutching the sheets tightly and curling into a ball, she muttered expletives to herself, more than frustrated with the entire situation. When she had thoughts like that, doubt welcomed itself without her consent. She hated doubting. She hated it because it quickly reminded her that when all was said and done, she had nowhere else to go. That was what hurt the most.

She just wanted to go to sleep already. To welcome her slumber wholeheartedly before she could let the pain catch her again—like it always did. To hide away with closed eyes, oblivious to the raging conflict both within and without. For just a little while… she wanted to get away from this hell. She was sick of it.

But no matter how she tossed and turned, no matter how she tried to think pleasant thoughts of brighter days of being at the table with her father and the Royal School of Sorcery with Mercedes, she couldn’t escape her tormenting thoughts. Or reality, for that matter.

She threw off her sheets and settled for covering her eyes, but despite her efforts, her tears returned as rocking waves regardless. She bit her lips to lower the volume the sounds of distress that would inevitably come soon after and hopped to her feet. She needed to leave, she couldn’t bear staying in this cursed bedroom.

She hadn’t bothered to change. She only slid her bedroom slippers on, and like that, she was out the door. She paused the moment she left, scrutinizing her surroundings for soldiers still on patrol. She had known their routes by her heart now, even down to the smallest intricacies like turns and scans of the area down to the second.

She was surprised tonight, though, because, outside her dorm, there wasn’t a soldier in sight. Annette estimated the army’s losses, but she heavily doubted that the number of deaths the Empire had accrued in the last month alone was that colossal. She decided not to think too much of it, though. Perhaps Edelgard had just ordered them to rest or stationed them elsewhere in the monastery.

It definitely made her life easier; the last thing she wanted at the moment was for some tender-minded soldier to walk up to her and tell her about how much they admired her. That already happened often enough; it would immediately kill their morale if that young general they admired so much was caught in heart-crushing anguish.

Annette thought it a blessing in disguise but didn’t dwell on it for long. She played in the shadows when she could, favoring blessings of the night for her escape—and she was out in mere minutes. A new record, she was certainly getting better at sneaking out of the monastery.

She never thought that she’d favor the whistling woods over a comfortable bed, but in times of war, even the strangest of surprises still manifested. The racket of the trees and chatter of the local nightlife were calming, in a strange way. She felt at ease knowing that the war didn’t change everything; even if it was something as simple as the forests around her former school.

She walked, unsure she of where she was going and only knowing she wished to follow the glimmering pathway of light that peered from between the trees. She always did this—and it always brought the tiniest of smiles to her face. It was a reminder to her that even in the darkest of days, there was still light, somewhere, that shone brightly. That’s what her mother taught her.

She stopped immediately, however, once she heard a rustling in the trees; one that sounded too violent to be any mere animal. She took a fighting stance and raised her hands away from her chest, beginning to conjure a faint gale that played on her palms. She scanned the area once—twice—and found nothing.

_An assassin, no doubt. What’s the best way to end this quickly?_

Annette knew she didn’t have much time to think, the end of her life could be fast approaching; she felt her heart race because of it. It always irked her when she didn’t have the time to concoct a plan of attack, so she decided to go on the offensive.

She aimed for the tree to the left of the one that showed possibly-malicious activity and fired a Wind spell at the top, immediately doing the same to the one to the right of it. A shadowy figure flipped from treetop to treetop.

Annette fired spell after spell but somehow managed to barely miss each time. Then, the figure descended the treetops with the hastiness or a famished squirrel searching for food. She gritted her teeth, dug her feet into the ground, and prepared for a blade to the throat.

But there was a familiar face instead.

“Annie,” a voice she easily recognized—Specialist Petra Macneary, a commander from the archipelago of Brigid and one of her former classmates—called. “Why are you outside at a time like this…? And wearing so little…?”

Annette sighed, more than relieved that it was an ally. The goddess knew she wasn’t ready to die in the slightest—and certainly not like that. She scanned Petra, even in the darkness, the jewelry around her waist, shoulders, hands, and feet sparkled brilliantly in the moonlight; Annette wondered how she didn’t take note of it sooner but decided to blame it on fatigue.

“Oh hi, Petra,” Annette greeted, holding back a sigh of relief. “Why are you out this late?”

“I am protecting the monastery,” Petra said with a wide smile. “I always do it every night. I try to stay up late so I can train my body to stay up more. And… at night there is still a lot of game! So I am happy to make a lot of food for the soldiers. So I hunt and Bernie cooks the owl.”

“Oh, that’s where she gets the owl from. I see.” Annette paused for a brief moment before continuing, “Thank you for the meal yesterday. It was delicious. I never knew you could cook owl in such a way.”

“You should not be thanking me,” Petra said, bowing politely. “You should be thanking Bernie. I just do the hunting. Why are out in your nightgown tonight, Annie. Usually, you are wearing more clothes. You should be careful, you will be battling the cold if you are wearing so little.”

“I’m fine, Petra,” she reassured. “I’m not even really thinking about it. I’m fine…”

Annette paused at her own words and truly contemplated them. She knew that were spoken falsehoods; if she truly was fine she wouldn’t be in the woods during the waxing hours of the morning. 

She easily figured out that she was not attempting to convince the woman in front of her, but herself. She had to remind herself that she _was_ fine. She didn’t want the usually-vibrant Petra to witness her so dour.

She flinched, though, once Petra leaned in a bit too close. She gritted her teeth behind her lips and watched as the young woman perused her exterior—everything about her from her face to her body language. She then stepped back and her lips contorted into a solemn frown.

“Annie,” she sighed, “I do not have understanding, I will admit… I watch you every night, but I have no understanding of why you come to this place. I do not know why you are so sad when you come also. Will you help me to have understanding, Annie? Why do you come here…?”

“Why do I come?” Annette started. She delayed her words for the appropriate answer, taking careful consideration of the words she wanted to use. “I like the forest. It’s… calming to me at night. It’s the same as it was when we were at Garreg Mach, it’s one of the few things that hasn’t changed in the war. I… remember. I went out here with Ingrid on a late-night adventure when I was still part of the Blue Lions.” She giggled. “Or at least that’s what we decided to call it. Then the gatekeeper caught us, though. We got a big lecture from Professor Hanneman, but it was fun until then.”

A bitter smile found its way on Annette’s lips. She had loved that memory, she had wondered why retelling it to someone else had suddenly seemed so painful. It was a smile that didn’t last long, even though she wasn’t completely aware, and once again, an expression that showed nothing but a shy misery claimed her face.

“Annie,” Petra whispered to herself solemnly. She turned her head away, folded her arms and said, “You should not be pushing yourself so hard… If you are unhappy, you should be having… _have_ some time to yourself… I understand that this war is not easy on your mind. Can I help…?”

Annette’s lips separated in preformulated protest, but she closed them once again once the realization dawned on her that she couldn’t mask her emotions behind false smiles forever. She decided to give in now before she was forced to spill her feelings at a more dire, more dangerous time.

“I… don’t know, honestly, Petra,” Annette answered. “Do you think I seem distant sometimes…?”

“In honesty,” Petra started, “yes. I do think you are a bit distant at times… I think I knew before that you are not okay right now… I decided that I would be leaving you to yourself, though. It was not my place to pry where I did not belong.”

“Well, I guess you’re right… I don’t think I’m okay. I’m actually really sad most days, I’m just always running from it… I can’t live with my thoughts sometimes, so I just… do more and more things in this army. I can’t stop doing or they’ll catch up to me… So they do when I sleep… I get some really bad nightmares…”

“I see…” 

Petra frowned, gazing up at the concealed moon. She stared at it for a long, suffocating two seconds that nearly made Annette choke on the anticipation. Her muscles hardened like cool iron and she couldn’t bare to gaze at the young woman anymore.

“Annie,” she heard Petra call, instinctively pulling her eyes back over to those of the foreigner’s. “I think I have understanding”

Annette’s eyes widened. “Oh? What about?”

“Your situation,” she answered. “You are worried that you will have to do battle with your old friends in the Kingdom, am I correct?”

Sighing and seeing no further point in even attempting to deny the truth, she nodded. “Yes, that’s right… Just… It’s like my entire life has flipped upside down. People I’ve known throughout it and admired are now some of my worst enemies… And that’s…” Annette turned her head away, gazing at the mix-matched sticks below her feet. “That’s really scary for me…”

Petra pursed her lips and asked, “But House Dominic are allies of Edelgard, yes? You have not lost everyone. You still have your family. And you have me and your other friends as well. We are all friends, Annette. Do not worry.”

Annette chuckled dryly at those words. She hadn’t even known that her family had Imperial ties until after the Battle of Garreg Mach, and she couldn’t help but find that ironic. Her own family suggested she left them to fight for a cause that they believed in, and yet, even then, she couldn’t feel more distant from them.

Petra’s sentimentalism did bring something, though—a spark of understanding of her own situation. It was small, but she supposed that she understood well enough to place it into words.

“It’s like,” Annette started, “you can have a puzzle, but you’re missing some of the pieces. Even if you try to put the puzzle together, you don’t get the whole picture; it could even end up looking a little ugly sometimes. Did… I tell you about my father? He’s a Knight of Seiros, but I didn’t tell anyone, actually.”

“Oh…? Do I know him…?”

“You should,” Annette said. “I heard on one of the Black Eagles’ first missions you brought a knight in heavy armor with you. That’s what Sylvain told me. He would have gone by ‘Gilbert,’ but his name is actually Gustave—Gustave Dominic. They relocated my father to Faerghus. I can’t go back to even talk to him because the Church branded me a criminal who had committed treason. So… it would seem I’m stuck in Adrestia and this monastery until the war is over.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Petra asked.

Annette contemplated the situation, truly, for a second; without the bias. She knew that she missed Mercedes and her father, and so badly that the memories of them caused nostalgic insomnia that made her fear remembering them as they were in her nightmares even more. Nothing could replace them, being without them seared her already-charred heart, and yet, she still shook her head.

“I don’t think it’s all good or all bad,” Annette said. “If I was in Faerghus and the Empire still went to war—and I’m sure they would—I might have had to fight against you all. That’s another world of hurt entirely… I know either path wouldn’t have been an easy one. This is just the one I wound up on—not to say that I don’t believe in Edelgard’s cause—but… I think you understand what I said pretty well, right?”

Petra nodded. “Yes, I have understanding, Annie. I do… because I believe I am similar…”

“Right. Brigid and Adrestia went to war.” Annette paused for a moment, then frowned, sighing, “Aren’t you essentially a hostage here, though? That’s what Hubert told me.”

“I… would be supposing so, yes,” she said, but immediately shook her head. “But I have been working to be refusing to be thinking that way. Now I do not. I am very happy that I came to Adrestia. It was a very pleasant experience. Edelgard is very nice, and I have also made many new friends.” She smiled. “Like you, Annie! So I am not regretting this experience.”

Annette repeated Petra’s words in her own mind. So badly did she wish to have that same optimism she had. She was only seventeen, and yet, she had managed to retain that vivacious confidence that she had come to know so well from her time at Garreg Mach. 

It was admittedly more than a little impressive how she clung to hope despite the less-than-desirable circumstances that she had found herself in. _She_ was the type of woman that would inspire soldiers and win with the sheer power of will and lack of understanding of the meaning of defeat. 

It was awe-inspiring, and her those inspirational words pulled her lips into the tiniest of soft smiles. Annette hadn’t expected it, but a giggle also fell from her lips, and she raised a hand to her lips in order to silence herself. She wasn’t sure why she giggled. Perhaps at the cruel fate of this reality—but she knew that couldn't be the case. The smile told a different story.

She sighed softly and relished in the warm feeling that caressed her tired body. It had been a while since she had let her guard down to actually feel someone’s genuine friendship. Her conversations were always something about the war. Empire this. Kingdom that. It was a while since anyone had talked to her in such a casual way. 

_Or maybe I've been shutting others out,_ Annette thought to herself.

Admittedly, she wasn’t sure. She was always hopping from one thing to the next. She honestly couldn’t remember. The cycle of morning and evening seemed to happen so rapidly nowadays; sometimes she wasn’t even sure what had happened that day other than battle preparations she had engraved in her memory time after time and extensive war meetings that lasted hours. Maybe she was the problem.

A frown found its way on Annette’s face and Petra frowned as well, deciding to wave her hand in front of Annette’s eyes in a clear attempt to pull her away from her thoughts and back to reality.

“Annie,” she called. “Please. Why are you frowning?”

“I’m… frowning because I’m worried I may have been a bit of a fool this time,” Annette answered. “I was thinking that maybe… I shouldn’t open up to my friends, that I shouldn’t bother them. So I think I subconsciously grew distant from them…” 

Annette bit her lip and tears began to stream from her eyes once more. She immediately began to wipe them, but the more she did, the more that seemed to come. She felt her chest tighten; that was the moment she lost control. She leaned over and cried with all the force and gracefulness of a person vomiting on all fours, clutching her chest tightly.

She wasn’t sure why her blanketed sadness had manifested itself in such a forceful manner, especially from how simple the situation was, but she submitted to her pain. This was her way to cope; to release it all.  
She wept and wept, and soon, she wasn’t even sure why she was weeping. All she knew was that it felt good—good enough to keep going.

But it all came to a halt once she felt a pair of arms wrap around her and the chill of solid metal biting her wrists and hands. Annette looked up from the tear-obfuscated floor and managed to see a very clear Petra. She blinked once—twice—and slowly wrapped her arms around Petra softly before immediately tightening her grip and clutching her like a worried child did a stuffed animal.

“I’m so sorry,” Annette muttered. Her sobs came once again and begged for a moment of pause, then she screamed, “I’m so sorry for this, Petra! For being a failure of a soldier—of a general! I-I miss my father…! I miss my friends…! I know I have to be strong! I know! I-I know… I shouldn’t let this get to me…” 

Annette shuddered in Petra’s grasp, shaking as if she had been caught in the worst rainfall of the month. Her body was stiff and her throat ached. All she could do was coarsely croak, with near inaudibility, “I-I… I know… I know…!” Her lips quivered and as she spoke again, it came as a quiet, depressive whisper. “I-I know… I know… I’m sorry…”

“Annette.”

Annette gasped at suddenly hearing her full name. Petra’s voice was dominant and drowned out all around her. She bit her lip, staring at the blurry image of the foreign princess whose cold hands she felt press against her face.

“You should be listening to me,” she started. “You are not alone. We are in this together. Every single one of us. We are fighting for the future of Fódlan. Even if we all are from different places. You should remember that I am the same as you. While I am not here by choice, I am here because I have a duty. That duty is to fight for what I believe in! What _we_ have chosen to believe in, Annie. I’m sure you understand.”

Petra stopped speaking and looked Annette, staring inside of her eyes as if watching her soul writhe in anguish. And with complete seriousness, she said, “The Empire and Brigid may be like enemies now, but as I have spent time here, tensions have been lifted… Faerghus and Adrestia are enemies too, but… we must win this war… and save Faerghus.”

“Save Faerghus…?” Annette asked, drying her eyes with her palms.

Petra nodded. “Yes. We cannot allow the Church to continue their reign on the people. We will take them down. Rhea is spreading lies and holding power over the people of Fódlan. The Church is corrupt and we have both seen that first hand. Which is why we must defeat them, and King Dimitri.”

A smile spread across Petra’s lips, despite the situation. A wide one that Annette swore could light up the night sky with its sparkling sanguinity. It was that same smile, the entrancing one that reminded her that there was a chance that everything _may_ end without harming those that she cared about. But such sentiments of maybes were still hell for her.

“Once we kill Rhea,” Petra started, “we will win and unite Fódlan. And there is a chance that we will not have to kill those people important to you in the process. Hold onto that chance. Do not let fear fuel you. Hope should fuel your body and mind.”

Annette… nodded, feebly. She understood that Petra spoke nothing but the truth, and still it didn’t fix anything. She forced her best smile and said, “I’m just disappointed and angry with myself… Very angry just… I don’t know… Why the hell is this so hard…?”

“War is never easy, Annie,” Petra said. She dug her feet into the ground, and placing her arm against her stomach, she bowed. “_However_, I vow to find some way to make this pain that you are feeling easier! I refuse to let this war consume your sanity and make you miserable. Together, we will fight it. That I do swear to you, Annie, my friend.”

Annette’s smile turned genuine but unsure. She appreciated the effort, but she also understood that it wouldn’t be that easy, either. She raised her hands to Petra’s face in an, albeit, more sheepish manner and sighed.

“Okay, we will,” she paused before continuing in a shaky voice, “‘save Faerghus’… I’ll try to take a day off as well, I think—or maybe the morning off… I’m not sure yet. But… I’ll try, Petra. Thank you for speaking to me tonight… I’ll… I can try to do better… I can…”

“That is good, Annie.” Petra pulled her hands away and clapped them together. “Very, very good. I am proud of you. But if you are having nightmares, shall I spend some time with you tonight? I will sleep in your room and I will be there to comfort you if you wake up early again. Would that be all right with you?”

Annette considered the proposal. She wondered when she had become so helpless. She had remembered the starry-eyed girl that was a magical prodigy who only wished to run away from her mother to chase her father and become a skilled sorceress. And yet, the idea did seem nice.

Finding a small sign bit of her life in her dried up humor, Annette said, “Call it a sleepover and we have a deal, then.”

“All right.” She nodded. “Then we will be having a sleeping over. I have never had one in Brigid before. I am very excited.”

Excited. Annette wished that she could say the same. She hadn’t felt genuine excitement about anything in a long time. Even this, as enjoyable as she was sure that Petra’s company would be, she couldn’t find it in herself to be excited about it. 

She had considered that perhaps she was simply tired. She felt her shoulders slump and her body begin to weigh heavily. She yawned—a good sign. Perhaps she would be able to rest peacefully for the night if she was lucky; if no enemies she knew visited in her slumber.

“Excited, huh…? That’s… that’s good. Never lose that about you. Never stop getting excited about things.” She paused, looked at the floor, and kicked at the ground. “Thank you, Petra. For tonight. For everything. It means a lot to me…”

“It will never be a problem, Annie.” Petra grabbed Annette’s hand and held it tightly. “I will always be happy to spend time with you, but… might we do it somewhere warmer? While I am here every night, I do not like the cold. It is very warm in Brigid, so I am still not used to Fódlan being so cold.”

Annette shook her head. “It’s no problem, I promise… Let’s get you inside.”

She pulled Petra along, eager to leave the woods. She wanted to sleep, but most importantly, she wanted the sun to rise again and torment her from behind her blinds. So she didn’t have to worry about night terrors. At least until tomorrow.

If they came, she knew she’d have to find a way to not be hopeless all over again. And she knew, if that feeling of suffocating despair came again, it would never go away. Not after everything tonight.

She could only hope that it wouldn’t.


	4. Chapter 4

The moment Annette awoke, the sun tormented her eyes and blighted her vision. Annette was always a morning person, but recently, she found herself having a deep hatred for it; whenever it came, she wanted nothing more than to stay in bed and watch it solemnly pass.

A yawn fell from her lips, and she sat up, reaching for the ceiling tiredly. As her eyes scanned her room, she soon realized that Petra, who had stayed with her last night, had vanished. She wasn’t particularly worried—she understood that the floor wasn’t the best place to sleep—but she wondered why Petra had left in such a hurry. Or maybe she hadn’t.

She didn’t bother any longer with the thought. Instead, she rolled over, pulled open her drawer, and reached for the blue-tinted pocket watch inside. As she realized the time, her jaw nearly fell to the floor. Noon. She never slept until noon; she didn’t even know she could.

Then, the realization that she had missed breakfast dawned on her; that was when misery overtook all over emotions. As much as she wanted to kick and scream, though, she fell back onto her bed and sighed in discontent.

_And they were having pancakes too today… They never have pancakes…!_

Annette let near-silent expletives feel from her spill from her lips like poison, cursing life for, once again, besting her in the simplest of ways; her stomach rumbled in agreement.

She threw off her sheet with the force of a raging tornado—the toss anticlimactic as the sheet floated to safety on the other side of her room—and trudged over to her cupboard, filtering through the abundance of clothes she had managed to collect during her time at Garreg Mach. She settled for a baby blue coat that ended at her knees, the cuffs and collar made of fur dyed white, and a pair of black leather boots.

It took around twenty miserable minutes of fiddling with uncooperative buttons and difficult straps and buckles before she finished dressing. She then slapped her cheeks in an attempt to ward off the lingering drowsiness. 

Annette was sure it was going to be another dreadfully work-filled day, but it was the lesser evil. It was certainly better than being trapped with her relentless thoughts.

Suddenly, a knock on the door came. It happened every morning whenever she managed to get five minutes too long of rest and Hubert became angsty, but for it to come now. That made Annette more than a little curious.

“Coming!” she shouted. “I’ll be there in a second!”

She hurried over to the door and hastily opened it, hoping it wasn’t any of her superiors; she sighed in relief once she saw the familiar bright smile from last night.

“Petra,” Anette greeted. “Hello again. Did you sleep well?”

Petra nodded. “Two hours last night! I usually do not get so much; I probably will be sleeping in the day regardless, though. I have noticed that you have been being able to rest well last night as well. I think that is good. Perhaps I shall sleep with you all other nights, then?”

Annette couldn’t help but blush at such a statement. She felt as if she was being coddled by her mother. She was older now, and she didn’t want to rely on Petra for everything, so she politely shook her head.

“There’ll be no need but thanks anyway.” She smiled. “I’m surprised you don’t sleep a lot, though, because you have such nice skin! What’s your secret? I’m curious.”

Petra giggled to herself as she ran her hand down a silky cheek. “Shamir has lent me some skin cream from Dagda. It has been working wonders on my skin. I am appreciating it greatly.”

“Oh, I’ve noticed you two have been getting along better these past few months. I’m happy about that. It’s nice that people from Brigid and Dagda can get along. I’ve heard it’s been affecting within both counties.”

“Yes!” Petra cheered. “Brigid and Dagda have actually become good allies because I have been speaking well of Shamir. That is giving me great joy to hear. Since Adrestia and Brigid are good allies, perhaps Adrestia and Dagda will be better allies as well.”

“I would hope so too,” Annette said. “We could use more allies whenever. Maybe you and Edelgard should talk about it sometime. I’m not the person to talk to about politics and stuff like that.”

Petra shook her head. “I did not tell you that because of that. I was wondering if you would like to come to Brigid and Dagda someday with me. I think it would be very fun if we went together! A,” Petra took a long pause, pursing her lips as she tried her hardest to remember the correct word, “‘vacation,’ I believe it is called.”

_A vacation. That… does sound nice…_

The goddess knew more than anything she could use a vacation. It had been years since she had one, and since life began to weigh so heavily with the ongoing war, something as simple as a vacation sounded like an experience akin to visiting Heaven.

“You’d like to take me to Brigid…?” A soft smile pulled at Annette’s lips and she said, “Thank you! Though, I’m pretty sure I can’t take a vacation anytime soon…” She frowned. “Too much work to do.”

“Well, maybe the next time I am going to Brigid I will be able to take you. For things concerning the war.”

Annette laughed, “That doesn’t sound much like a vacation anymore, does it?”

“Maybe it does not,” Petra said, “but I am certain it would still be very fun for you. It would be good for you to be leaving every now and again. You do not even go out to Adrestia; you always stay at the monastery. I thought that you liked to be shopping.”

“Well yeah, it stinks I can’t shop,” Annette lamented. “I’d definitely like to go shopping. I’m… just not too sure what I need. I like to shop to shop, but I usually find uses for a lot of stuff. There are no fancy balls I could go to that I’d need a dress for, no new pens I need… Oh!” Annette clapped. “I should get an ice cream machine!”

Such a pleasant thought of having her own ice cream machine soon became one of equal afflictions. Mercie always made the best ice cream and Annette even knew a few of her recipes by heart; she wasn’t sure if she could find it within herself to recreate them without her. It would just bring back memories of brighter days now blemished by the reality of their unfaithful truces and promises.

Annette was ready to destroy herself within her own mind again. But she wasn’t given the chance when two warm thumbs pull the sides of her lips upward to form an expression that was unfitting of her true feelings.

Petra was making her smile; she couldn’t help but pull away. She wanted to smile, she did, but she couldn’t even put in the effort to support a false one.

“Annie,” Petra whispered solemnly. “Are you still thinking about your friends from Faerghus.”

“Yeah,” Annette sighed. “Mercie made the best treats. Including her ice cream… Just making the ice cream, it wouldn’t be the same without her, if I’m being honest. Petra,” Annette took a deep breath, “how much longer am I going to have to fight this feeling? How much longer am I going to have to fend off the feeling of despair that comes when I just… think about something and I’m reminded of her?”

Petra froze; Annette knew she didn’t have the answer anyway. She watched as Petra struggled helplessly to find the right words—for any answer—for what seemed like an eternity. The truth was that it was a mere five seconds.

“I do not know,” Petra lamented. “I can only hope that it will not be remaining that way forever. Like I have told you last night, it is important that you hold onto hope and never let that hope to escape you.”

“I know. I’m just tired of it. It’s not even like I really want to sit and be sad. I just don’t wanna smile.” She sighed. “This really just stinks. I’m tired of it; I want it to end.”

“Perhaps you should be talking… _talk_ with someone about how you feel. Someone other than me who may be able to help you a bit better. If it is so maddening, it would not be very smart to be letting this continue. For how long has this been occurring, Annette…?”

“Ha. Since the Battle of Garreg Mach, actually. I still remember it like it was yesterday. Gosh, Father was there, too. I’m so glad me and my troops were attacking away from Ferdinand and the others engaging him. I’m not sure if I could deal with that look of shame on his face… It… hurts my heart, Petra. He was there; I put Mercie’s life in danger, I-I mean, I didn’t see her, but I did. We made all of the students evacuate.”

“We did,” Petra said, before shaking her head, “but it is foolish to dwell on us being on the wrong side. If we were, we would not be here. We know what most people do not, and we are fighting to make the truth known. So, let us fight together, Annette. Even if it may hurt—even if we alone are to walk atop fiery coals that are hurting, we will still be fighting. And to survive, we will win. Not just for us, but for everyone in Fódlan. We will have to be winning.”

“Wise words, Petra,” Annette dryly chuckled. “I think I know what you’re going to say next. We have to win because the fate of Fódlan itself is in our hands. That’s why we have to win.”

“You are right, Annie,” Petra praised. “That is exactly why we must win. Let us unite Fódlan and be stopping another war from happening. Once we do, something like this will never be happening… _happen_ again. And there is still no guarantee we will have to harm the people you’re afraid of doing so.”

“I… suppose you’re right. It’s just. It’s hard, Petra. I understand the Church is bad. I do. But… it’s all just so frustrating to me, this whole war. I wish Mercie and Dad would see that. That Dad would come back to Mom—to my uncle. Why does he have to be the only Kingdom supporter in our whole family? Why _him?!_”

“It is how life is sometimes, Annette. It is cruel sometimes, but we must be pushing forward whenever we can.”

“Bah! I know, Petra!” Annette slapped her hands against her forehead, her fingers digging into it as if trying to claw out her brain, and shook her head. “I know, I know, I know! We had this conversation just last night.” She bit her lip. “I hate talking about this again so soon. It’s like I’ve learned nothing!”

Petra placed a hand against Annette’s back and rubbed in a small circular motion. As she spoke, her voice low—soft. Almost pitiful.

“Of course not, Annie,” she said. “That is not the case. If you have learned nothing you would not be knowing the feeling that you are feeling now is wrong? So you have most certainly be learning something…”

“Petra. I… I appreciate this, I really do. And I’m happy that I can talk to you about my feelings and you’ve provided me a safe place for it, but I’m honestly just getting angry at them. I’m angry that they won’t go away. It’s just irritating to me that I want to be done with them. I don’t want things like Mercie or my dad to affect me anymore.” She turned around and raised the bottom of her palms to cover her eyes. “I’m so sick and tired of—!”

Annette’s lips went mum and shuddered once a voice that she had known so well cut through her own, chilling her body as if she was trapped in one of Faerghus’ famous snowstorms.

“Did I come at the wrong time?”

Annette could already feel the pair of lilac eyes peering right into her soul—aware all of her emotions; the sense of palpable dread she felt solidified that fact. She immediately spun on her heels and raised a shaky hand to a salute.

“Emperor Edelgard, ma’am! G-Good morning…!”

Wide-eyed and frowning, Edelgard repeated, “Emperor Edelgard…? Annette… What’s gotten into you today? You’re usually not so formal…”

Despondently, Annette lowered her head, but her eyes peered up to greet her emperor’s. But in them, she didn’t see the stern, stalwart look that she wore like a kindergartener their favorite sundress, but one of genuine care.

It was rare to see Edelgard so worried, but Annette had also wondered if she had just fooled herself into thinking that she hadn’t been this whole time. She hated that feeling on unawareness—of dubiousness—it only added to her anger.

Annette opened her lips to speak, but before she could, Petra suddenly blurted out, “Annie has not been feeling very well! I have been taking care of her for today, just so she will be able to be feeling better very soon…!”

Even as Petra spoke, Edelgard’s eyes didn’t leave Annette, and as the foreigner finished, she said, “Well, I’m very sorry to hear, Annette. I’m wishing you the best so that you’ll be able to make a quick recovery. However, sick or not, I have something to ask of you—well,” for a moment, Edelgard hesitated, “two things to ask of you, but the second doesn’t matter now. Take a look at this report.”

She handed Annette a piece of paper, coiled and wrapped carefully, and as it touched her hands, a sigh threatened to come out; she immediately quelled the urge, she didn’t need any talks about issues with her attitude.

She unwrapped the document and read it carefully. Another scout report about bandits attacking a stronghold near Varley. It was basic, which was what was shocking. Generally, she wouldn’t be given this—it would be handed off to a commander or sergeant—which was what made her raise an eyebrow at Edelgard.

“Bandits?” Annette asked. “What’s the deal with them?”

“Well, Annette, I doubt they’re merely bandits. They way they’ve been attacking this stronghold… It’s tactical. They aren’t looking to pillage and steal. Soldiers around that area have been turning up dead, but in various ways that aren’t so simplistic. Arrows in the dark, using distractions, fires. The thing that makes me the most skeptical is nothing goes missing on their person afterward. It’s causing me to believe that our adversaries here are not bandits but Kingdom or Alliance soldiers. I’d like you to eliminate this threat, but… if you’re not feeling well.”

Although sadness lingered, Annette didn’t waste any time in saying, “No, I’ll take care of it. Varley isn’t a very long march. I should be back by nightfall.”

“Are you sure?” Edelgard asked. “If you aren’t feeling well I’d rather not force you to march at the moment. Perhaps you should take a day to yourself.”

“Huh? No. Just… let me go, please.” Annette sighed. “There could be some… intelligence or something I could find for you. I’ll go get Sergeant Varley since she knows the territory the best. We could probably pull together some troops if we really need and kill as many as we can—hopefully, all of them—and secure the fort ourselves.”

“Well, if you’re sure.” A frown took hold of the emperor’s lips. “You should be back soon, all right. Actually,” Edelgard turned her head to Petra, “why don’t you go with her, Petra? It could prove useful to have two archers in such a situation. Would you mind?”

“Not at all!” Petra started with a wide smile and a bow. “It would be my pleasure, Edelgard. I, too, am having curiosity about this situation. I am in agreement with Annette. There may be something that we may find that will help us change the tides of this war. I can only be praying that it goes well.”

“If it’s just come Kingdom or Alliance official it shouldn’t be too hard!” Annette cheered. “Come on, Petra! We’ve got to be positive. We’ll be fine. We’ll live to fight another day; we’re nothing without hope.”

“You’re right, General,” Edelgard said, her tone more serious than usual. “I’m glad you think that way. It’ll be useful in battle.”

Normally, Edelgard would don the slightest of smiles that barely played at her lips when she’d utter her words of wisdom, but this time, such an expression of mirth was replaced by one of utter seriousness. That made a sudden chill run down Annette’s spine.

The curves of Edelgard’s lips were known to write history; Annette didn’t wish to be on the wrong side of it. She knew that she wasn’t emperor only because of her bloodline. She was the head, lungs, and legs of one of the most violent wars known to Fódlan. She had figured something out.

She decided it was best to play along, though, even though she knew Edelgard probably knew that she had also caught wind of the situation; so she merely cleared her throat.

Annette faked a smile. “Of course, Edelgard.” Politely, she bowed before asking Petra, “Shall we go find Bernie now, then?”

“Yes, Annie,” Petra said. “We shall be moving as quickly as possible. We will be seeing you, Edelgard.”

“Of course,” Edelgard said. “Safe travels to both of you. I hope goes well.”

Both Annette and Petra gave Edelgard one final wave before they stepped outside into the bustling hallways of Garreg Mach. In one life, Annette had seen it filled to the brim with students; in this one, soldiers replaced them. She still hadn’t gotten used to it.

As she and Petra walked, the sigh from before forced itself out, strident as ever; strident enough to cause Petra to take notice.

“Annie, what is wrong?” Petra asked. “Are you upset about something?”

“I think Edelgard is onto me,” Annette answered. “But I can’t worry about that now, can I? Or anything else. We’ve got a job to do. I’ll mope about it later, I guess.” Another sigh came and Annette pinched the bridge of her nose. “_Goddess._ Why me?”

“Do not be so despondent.” Petra smiled with a brightness that rivaled the afternoon sun outside. “Perhaps things will be fine. She is only aware of your weakness.”

“Yes, but what if she gets mad at me… or something.” Annette gave her a haphazard shrug. “I dunno.”

“Why would she be upset…? Edelgard is our friend, is she not?”

“Yes, but she’s my superior, Petra,” Annette explained. “She isn’t any less of my superior because she’s my friend. Our relationship… it’s business now. We aren’t schoolgirls anymore. We don’t have time for games.”

“I have understanding of that, yes, but I do not believe that that should be making Edelgard any less of our friend. We have been choosing to follow her because we are her friends, is that not true? She had no right to involve us in her war, and yet, it was what we decided to choose.”

“That’s true. I don’t know, it just… hasn’t felt the same, I guess.”

“Maybe you should have a conversation with her about your issue,” Petra suggested. “I am sure Edelgard will be listening to what you have to say, and she will be trying with hardness to resolve the issue.”

“I’m not sure if her not feeling like my friend at the moment is a super important priority. Especially with a war going on. She should be more focused on that than my stupid feelings.”

“Annie, you should be listening to yourself. If Hubert is Edelgard’s right foot you are sure to be her left foot. You are the youngest general within her army—and she goes to you for advice on most things. I am hoping you realize how much faith she is having in you. I am sure it wouldn’t be bad if you began trusting in her as much as she is trusting you.”

Petra was right; Annette knew that. She knew that Edelgard held her in the highest esteem, but treating the two of them as equals—that wasn’t something she was sure she could do. Petra’s words made her wonder, though. Had the faith truly faded in front of the friendship?

She hadn’t the time to contemplate it, her thoughts were promptly halted when she heard a knock against a door she didn’t even realize that she was in front of. Petra was knocking—and of course, a familiar scream soon followed.

“W-Who is it…?!” Bernadetta screamed. “I-It’s a day off for me, so… I-I’m very busy…!”

“Bernie, it is me and Annie! We have been ordered to be telling you that we must be going soon! Edelgard is having a mission for us to do!”

“A-A mission…?” From behind the door, Bernadetta grumbled. “There’s no rest for Bernie… All right, I’ll get dressed and we’ll go… Mind telling me what it is so I can prepare myself?”

“We’re going to investigate a stronghold,” Annette said. “It’s being attacked by bandits, but it may be Kingdom or Alliance soldiers instead. They’re in Varley.”

“Wait, y-you want to take me home?!” Bernadetta asked, worriedly. “What if my family is there?! I-I don’t know…! I-If you need a high-ranking archer, can’t you just take Shamir instead…?”

“We’re taking you because no one knows Varley quite like you, _Bernadetta von Varley._” Annette sighed. “Come on, Bernie. You’ll be fine. We won’t be there long, and we’ll be back here at the monastery by nightfall… We need you.”

“I heard you the first time. G-Geez, you’re starting to sound like an annoying parent or something, Annette… I’ll be out in a second. I don’t see any point in resisting. We’ve just… gotta do what we have to do and we’ll be home again soon—ow! _Oh, Bernie, stop being such a klutz!_”

Annette could only imagine pandemonium going on behind the closed door. The sounds crashing and slamming was made worse from the fact that she couldn’t see; only her imagination could fill in the blanks.

It soon came to a halt, and out waddled Bernadetta, her mauve hair as scruffy as ever, and that familiar look in her eyes that resembled a kitten on a rainy day. However, Annette noticed she was wearing a small smile; that was most certainly different.

“Well, despite what I heard, you look like you’re in a good mood today,” Annette said. “Did something happen?”

Frowning, and patting down her crimson uniform, Bernadetta asked, “I-Is it so strange that I’m in a good mood? I’d hate to think I’m a Debby Downer all the time.”

“Not always,” Annette said. “Just… you’re smiling today when we’re pulling you away on your day off. You usually complain about things like that.”

Bernadetta huffed. “Well, if it’s such an issue, I’m not gonna complain anymore! But I’ve been feeling that too, I think. No, I’m just trying to be more positive… This war looks gloomy, and I’m not sure it’s going to end anytime soon, so… I guess I get to see Varley again.” She shrugged. “It’s been a while since I’ve gone home; it’ll be fine as long as I don’t have to see my parents.”

“Do not worry, Bernie,” Petra said. “I am believing the stronghold we will be visiting is not near the Varley estate. We won’t have to be seeing them.”

“Of course,” Bernadetta sighed. “That’s good, at least… All right, well, I’ve got my bow. I’ve got my arrows. I’ve got my gear… I think I’m ready, then… I hope, at least…”

“All right,” Annette said. “I’ll rally my troops, then we’ll be off. We have one job, ladies. Come back alive.”

_No matter what… No matter who stands in our way…_

Annette frowned. She truly hoped it really wasn’t Kingdom soldiers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 𝓐𝓾𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓻'𝓼 𝓝𝓸𝓽𝓮: 
> 
> So this one actually took a little longer to write and edit, just because I've been trying to perfect my style a bit more. I'm trying to improve not only my characterization and content but my style of writing as well. That's why I really appreciate feedback! 
> 
> I'd love to hear what you all think of these chapters, not only with what I'm writing but appealing it is to read in style and word choice. Really, everything is appreciated! That way I can create better chapters from you guys' criticism.


	5. Chapter 5

The winds of Varley were ones of an undetermined season; Annette was unsure if she should have dressed better or not. When it hit her skin, it was either freezing or scorching, and those sensations far overstayed their welcome.

A disconsolate atmosphere treats the people within it as equals, with equal discomfort to spare; this was one of those times. Annette’s entire unit wore crestfallen expressions that came with similarly-furrowed brows and chilly, red faces. They all suffered—all but one person.

Heading the unit alongside her and Petra, Bernadetta walked confidently—or as confidently as a recluse like her could—watching the birds that sang familiar lullabies that she clearly knew well since she hummed them back, and trudging through the marshes like quicksand as if walking in her backyard.

Annette had only seen Varley on maps and had never been, but she never expected it would be such an interesting whirlwind of torment. She looked to the sky to read the time and she could approximate that it was about five-thirty, due to the time of the year and the sun fleeing for rest beyond the horizon.

She knew they must’ve been nearly there—and yet—she still wasn’t prepared for what to come. Her mind was too focused on the relentless journey that tested her patience instead of the likely-dreadful destination that could’ve been her last. She preferred those thoughts.

She didn’t want to think about who would’ve been occupying the fort. She knew her mind would create endless possibilities of scenarios of chances too slim—but they were still believable.

The cold, battle-hardened military official within her implored her to consider every likelihood, but out of a similar fear _she_ did not. She couldn’t deal with teetering on the thin line of assumptions and memories that beneath burned an emotional hellscape.

Naturally, she decided to voice the latter, sedating her thoughts with dialogue.

“Bernie, isn’t this weather getting to you?” she asked. “It’s really irritating to me…”

“Huh?” Bernadetta flicked her head and, timidly, her fingers mingled. “Not really, I guess. I’m used to it. I grew up here, anyway. It’d be stranger if it did bother me. I can see how it’d bother some people, though. You have to dress weird on most days.”

“I can see how. I’m honestly a little chilly—and hot.” Annette smiled, unsure if sweat would fall from her lips or if her teeth would chatter. “I’m looking forward to getting home and having a nice cup of piping hot tea.”

“You and I both,” Bernadetta sighed, still smiling. “We’ll be home again soon…”

“Hold!” Petra suddenly shouted, drawing all of the soldiers’ attention to the stronghold before them.

A superstructure that was once immortalized by stone, had cracked and was approaching the end of its longevity. The beige paint had faded and chipped, but the most striking feature that had caught Annette’s eye was the Imperial banners. They hung lazily, flailing in the wind with all the grace of a flounder out of water, and the way they were tattered told the story of death’s grip on that place alone.

Annette held her breath and stood on her tiptoes, looking past the fort to see that there had, indeed, been a forest fire that consumed the nearby wildlife, though, the damage appeared to be weeks old. 

Sighing, she motioned for the troops to advance into the fort, and they did, drawing their weapons. Cautiously, Annette and her squadron scrutinized the area, searching for any signs of life, but found none. Only the spirits and bodies of the dead lingered.

One particular body immediately captured her attention. A woman in Imperial uniform with pale skin—far paler than the usual rotting cadaver. The woman was ghost-white, but that wasn’t the most concerning part. An arrow was lodged in her neck, encased in a black charring that was undoubtedly her own skin.

Annette placed one knee and the ground and called, “Medics! We need an autopsy on the body stat!”

A team of three soldiers ran forward and began to carefully flip the body over. That’s when the moment another dropped to the floor. A surprise attack—another arrow; it pierced right through one of the soldier’s throats. 

The agony of blood erupting from her throat and dripping past her crimson lips lasted for two painful seconds Annette knew she would have trouble forgetting this tonight; she couldn’t even force a scream or cry her sullen last words. Only mumble.

The defensiveness that she had developed from such a gratuitous sight nearly left her breathless; that sentiment carried to the rest of her brigade. Even Bernadetta’s smile had died with the soldier, in its place a solemn frown that spread widely across cheeks now-tinted green.

Everyone knew that the first shot was a warning shot—a death to make an example. As cruel of a first blood it was, Annette knew she couldn’t leave without results. Taking a deep sigh, she stepped forward; she was ready for anything that awaited her, she simply knew needed to strategize around it.

Petra did the same and closed her eyes. The foreign woman reached behind and her fingers soon found the iron arrows laced in a custom-made venom of the plant-life of Brigid. With a quick sigh, she opened one eye and aimed nowhere.

The moment she saw, Annette knew her plan, and though she thought it was brilliant, she couldn’t say she condoned it. Acting as bait was a bold move; she knew she had to play along.

She sauntered away from her, her eyes focused on Petra—ever-watchful like how a worried mother would act around their sick child.

Petra, on the other hand, didn’t even glance at Annette; it was if she hadn’t considered her at all. She held her position with complete stillness; so much so she hadn’t even twitched. She was a masterfully-crafted effigy with a steely resolve. Annette was impressed.

She conjured a gale against her palms, taking shallow breaths with each careful step. She was ready to blast Petra out of the way whenever the arrow came. She had prepared herself—imagined it fly by at lightning-paced speeds so many times she had lost count—she hadn’t expected that it would be her that needed saving.

When the arrow came it was too late. She closed her eyes and experienced the slowest moment of her life—but she knew despite that, her end would be swift. That slowest moment lasted a millennium—and then, it ended when she reopened her eyes.

The arrow, somehow, landed at her feet. It made no sense, but she didn’t have the time to contemplate it. Petra finally let her arrow fly into the forest, and by some divine miracle, a body fell from the trees. Annette was in awe, though, she couldn’t allow herself to show it—not now.

Knowing that they may not be safe, Annette waved an index finger in the air and shouted, “Bernie! The forest!”

Bernadetta and her squadron of ten all drew and took aim, holding their fire for two counted seconds.

Bernadetta screamed, “Fire!” 

Arrows rocketed; bodies rained—falling from the branches they soon found themselves buried in. Annette did her best to watch them carefully as they fell, and it didn’t take her long to realize that the issue was still at large. From the trees soldiers grasps’ fell swords, axes, lances, and even gauntlets—but no bows.

Suddenly, another arrow flew, this time, heading right for Bernadetta. Petra broke into a sprint and tackled her into the marsh, narrowingly saving both of their lives. Before the foreign woman could attempt to push herself back to her feet, she took a deep breath preceded by a shallow one—then she screamed.

Another arrow had struck between her right shoulder blade. Scarlet oozed down her back, and when she reached for the shaft of the arrow, slipped through her calloused fingers like water. She gripped it tightly and pulled without relent; the birds fled when they heard her wail.

Annette’s worry pulled her feet into a sprint—one that became an obstacle course when the first arrow flew at her feet. When she noticed then projectile fly in her direction, she stumbled backward, dodging the arrow that would have impaled her right foot narrowly. She hadn’t the time to sigh in relief.

Three other soldiers followed behind, their steps hurried and jagged. Once they had finally caught up to the general, another arrow landed at her feet, as swift as the wind. Before she could even react, a large explosion launched her and the other soldiers into the air.

Annette was lucky enough to only crash her back against a chipped stone wall, fall flat against a patch of dirt, and slam her forehead against a piece of broken flooring. Annette screamed in anguish; the sound was drowned out by similar guttural arias that formed a cacophony of suffering.

She cringed as the chilling wind attacked her busted lip. Her entire body shuddered, though, not from the feeling but what she had seen. Death had grasped them—the soldiers that followed her. Two men laid dead right next to one another, their bodies badly charred and their eyes wide open.

That wasn’t the worst of it, though. One soldier was still alive—a woman—who looked to be no older than eighteen or nineteen. Her charred limbs spread as she laid against the blood-soaked rock her head and body had slammed against. She had undoubtedly had a fractured skull, and yet, she still attempted to move her arms and legs, grasping at life with desolate desperation; it was all to no avail.

Tears began to stream down the woman’s cheeks and Annette limped over. It was painful—her feet and legs ached and burned with each step—but she continued placing one foot in front of the next. She extended her palms and they gleamed a starry white, and the soldier smiled weakly.

It took twenty long seconds for Annette to reach the soldier, and once she did, she swore her legs would cause her to collapse on top of her; she was surprised she didn’t. She held her hands over her and carefully let them shine over the worst of the wounds, her head and neck, but the woman only chuckled in response.

“Are you trying to heal me, General?” she whispered weakly. “You and I both know that… my wounds are too bad for that… It won’t work…”

“Stay alive, soldier!” Annette shouted. “I can damn-well try…! Now hush…! Save your energy…”

“I’m sorry to disobey orders, ma’am, but in the last… moments of my life… I’ll do what I please…” Her disobedience, as if fate, was met with a pain that caused her to scream as her wounds began to close; Annette knew how terrible that felt with wounds as severe as hers—but she kept a flinty facade for the both of them.

“Don’t die on me, idiot!” Annette spat. “That’s an order! Shush!”

Another dry chuckle fell from the woman’s lips. “General, my—” her words were cut off by a loud, involuntary groan, “my _stomach_. General, I’m bleeding internally… Something inside me,” she paused, then choked, then tears painted the sorrowful expression her face so longed to show, washing away the mask of bravery she had donned, “something inside of me burst,” she sobbed. “I’m going to die one way or another, please…”

Annette felt something inside of her perish silently. She wasn’t sure what it was, but it caused her to lower her hands to her sides and they balled into fists. Shamefully, Annette turned her head away and drowned in her thoughts. The thoughts that once again, there was one other life she couldn’t save, more blood that dripped, dried, and permanently stained her hands and mind.

“General,” the woman whispered, pulling Annette back from her thoughts.

“Yes, soldier,” Annette whispered, looking back at her. “Speak quietly, but speak your mind.”

“My name is… Selina Hengstler…” She coughed and blood erupted, staining her chin and uniform a very distinct, darker red that contrasted badly against the vermillion-colored leather. “It’s a name you shouldn’t forget… I’m not a noble—nor am I special—but I have a family… a mother, a brother… a loving girlfriend… I tried to push you out of the way to save you; I think I did… even if I barely touched you before the blast… I saved an Adrestian general… Will you please tell them I passed…?” Two more coughs, more painful-sounding and guttural that the last; the blood splashed right beneath her nostrils. “Please…?”

Annette sighed, reached downward and held’s Selina’s right hand tightly; Selina winced, then chuckled.

“I promise, _Commander_ Selina Hengstler,” Annette whispered. “I… I will tell them… I’m not sure how, but I know that they deserve to know…”

“Good… and won’t you smile for me, General…?” she laughed, feebly. “You’re… so… ugly when you frown…”

Annette forced a pained laugh and said, “I’m sorry…” She then forced the best smile that she could, but she doubted that it hid the overwhelming sorrow she felt. “Is this better…?”

Selina’s silver eyes flicked up to Annette and then closed. “Yes,” she said, “but you do not need to force it for me… Ad maiora, General…”

When Selina’s hand fell from her grasp, Annette couldn’t indulge herself in her tears. She had to stay strong for everyone around her—they couldn’t see her cry. She bit her lip to stop herself—biting so hard she tasted metal—and backed away.

She jumped when she heard someone running behind her at breakneck speeds. She spun on her heels and prepared to send her attacker flying with a Wind spell, but when arrows pierced his back and throat, he fell to the ground.

Bernadetta, who was trapped beneath Petra’s nearly-unconscious body and breathing heavily, had taken the shot, her fingers quivering from the undoubtedly tense situation.

“A-Annette,” she stuttered, “be careful, please…! Everyone, please protect her!”

“Ma’am, yes ma’am,” Bernadetta’s troops said in unison, approaching Annette carefully, worried and anxious expressions on their faces. 

Annette put her hand up and shook her head. “It’s fine, Bernie,” she scolded. “I’ve got this all figured out.” She stepped to the side as another arrow barely whisked past her shoulder. “I have the trajectory all figured out. They’re hopping through the trees!”

Annette spun on her heels and fervidly fired a Cutting Gale spell, with enough vigor that the loops made from her hairstyle blasted back, at the top of the tree behind her and perfectly hit her mark. A steel bow, followed by a body fell to the ground; she immediately gasped at who it was.

She hadn’t expected that the first time she’d see Ashe again, he’d be wearing the gear of bandits and she’d be so utterly furious with him. When she first knew him, he was nothing but sweet to her, and everyone around him, so the thought that he could cause so much chaos—so much death, and nearly even took her own life—it made her sick to her stomach.

Recklessly, she yelled and tackled him to the ground just as he was starting to get up. From her position, she had a good view of his face. She saw the visage of innocence he wore—a completely straight face that stared back at her with unconcerned eyes. She hated looking at it.

She hated it so much she punched it with all her might, and then again, and again. She didn’t care that her arm burned and ached with each swing, she just kept swinging—even after she drew blood. She wasn’t satisfied until her entire fist was caked in it.

Annette shuddered as she raised her fist to her face. She hadn’t ever been so angry to act in such a relentless show of violence, and against one of her former classmates—one of her former friends—no less.

She was frightened—worried that she had finally become the monster that war turned men into. A violent, heartless monster fueled by rage and anger birthed by loss and betrayal.

Ashe laid silent underneath her waiting a few seconds before releasing dry chuckle. “Annette, don’t hesitate… You’ve won fair and square. End me…”

His words only gassed the blaze of fury that burned within her. There was nothing fair about this. She stared at his blood-stained face through misty eyes and grit her teeth as she punched him twice more.

“Shut it!” Annette screamed. “Why did you do this?!” Violently, she grabbed him by the collar, pulled him upward, and screamed in his ear, “Tell me why!”

“I did it… in the name of… justice,” he whispered.

Annette had enough. She conjured a gale against her palms and then balled her hand into a fist; she wanted it to be the last thing he ever saw.

She grit her teeth. “‘And this is _my justice_, ass!”

Her fist glowed with the emblem of House Dominic’s Crest and she slammed it against his face; her wind blew back at her, disorienting her senses. When the small storm finally passed, Annette had a second to breathe—to calm herself.

She looked at the young man she had once called her friend beneath her. His eyes were shut and if it weren’t for the blood and bruises she had given him he’d look peaceful—like he was sleeping. Immediately, guilt settled.

“Ashe…?” she called.

He didn’t answer. He didn’t move. Only laid there like a mere object. Annette cried.

Truthfully, she had felt the tears threatening to spill out, but she couldn’t contain it any longer. She didn’t care who she was in front of or who she was with. She had just killed one of her old friends. Soon, wails turned to screams; screams so loud birds flew away and cawed in displeasure.

One of the soldiers hobbled over and offered her a red handkerchief. Annette took it and clutched it tightly in her hands.

“Thank you,” she said looking at him.

“No problem, ma’am.” The soldier bowed. “Take all the time you need.”

She obeyed, wiping her eyes and taking some time to be lost in her thoughts. She only lasted a couple of seconds before both her brain and her body went numb. She hadn’t felt more guilty in her life. She had tried over and over to convince himself that he was an enemy—that he had killed a young woman with a family a long life ahead of her and many others—but she just couldn’t shake that feeling.

It was a feeling that had overpowered her senses and brought on more vicious, unrelenting tears that lined waterfalls along her cheeks. She clutched Ashe’s coat tightly—then her eyes had suddenly opened. His heart, it was beating! It was shallow, but he was still alive.

Annette wasn’t sure how to react. She wanted both to batter him again and to sigh in relief—but she did neither. She hated that feeling of uncertainty. When she didn’t know what or how to feel. It just left her feeling terrible and desolate.

She slapped him one final time and got to her feet, a sigh falling from her lips followed by a loud groan. She hadn’t realized how dreadfully her body ached until she was out of combat; her legs especially. Annette was sure that they were broken or at least fractured.

As tough as it was to stand on her own, she managed, hobbling towards Petra and Bernadetta. Petra had pulled the arrow out and had lost a lot of blood. Another soldier had sneaked over to offer her aid during the chaos, wiping her wounds and applying her own white magic.

“Thank you for keeping her healthy,” Annette whispered, forcing a smile.

“Anything I can do to help, General,” she woman said, brushing away strewn black locks from in front of her face. “As someone whose father is from Dagda, I wasn’t just about to let a princess of Brigid die on us. She’ll be fine. She’s just… lost a lot of blood. I was able to close her wounds, but she needs a lot of rest and water. It would be good to get her over to Surgeon General Casagranda; you as well.”

“Heard,” Annette groaned. “Men! Count our losses and bring the live one,” she shakily pointed to Ashe, “back with us…” She then glanced at Bernadetta who was still underneath Petra. “Bernie, why are you there?”

“O-Oh, I just thought it would be better if I didn’t struggle…!” She smiled. “P-Petra was being taken care of on top of me… S-So I just thought I’d stick around, um… you don’t look too great, though.” She frowned. “You can take your soldiers and go… No one’s going to attack this fort in a while, so… I suppose we won…”

“I’d hardly—ouch!” She gritted her teeth as the chilling wind once against pushed against her open wounds. “I’d… hardly call this a victory, Bernie, but… no… I can wait for you guys. It wouldn’t be fair for a general to leave without her troops… I’m still alive so I got away lucky.”

Annette sat on the floor and stretched out her legs, letting loose a couple of soft grunts. She then ran her hands along her legs, applying a Heal spell to her wounds. They burned, but she bit her bleeding lip and tasted blood against her tongue. She could feel it alleviating the pain a bit, but not by much.

Bernadetta sighed. “Just… don’t push yourself, okay, Annette? W-We don’t want you to hurt yourself any more than you need. I know better than to tell you to rest but—”

“I know,” Annette mumbled. “Just… I need some time to think, Bernie. Is that okay…?”

“I…” Bernadetta frowned. “Sorry…”

“It’s okay, Bernie…” Annette forced another smile. “It’s not on you. It’s on me. This whole thing…” She sucked air through her teeth once she felt another wave of pain brought on by the chilling wind. “This whole thing just… really stinks, but that’s just war…”

Bitterness laced her words. All it was was war. Everything these days was war. Another set of tears streamed down her face that she hid by slapping her bloodied hands to her closed eyes and forcing a sigh.

She wanted it to be over with.


	6. Chapter 6

**Day 26 of the Horse Bow Moon, 1180**

Annette closed her third textbook, sighed, and took a long sip of her coffee; she had no intention of leaving anytime soon. She pulled the fourth close to her—another exhaustive book on the most optimal uses and history of black magic—and opened it, making her best attempt to memorize the first page by heart.

The moment she flipped to the second, the sound of footsteps in the previously-empty library caught her attention and she flicked her head back. She smiled, though, once she saw it was just Ashe. 

She should have expected it, honestly, he had spent countless hours and sleepless nights perusing the collection of great fables of knights and heroes with Ingrid, but when she noticed he walked over to the section containing textbooks, she called out to him.

“Ashe, Ashe!” she called, causing the boy to spin on his heels and greet her with a wide, bright smile. “Are you here to study too?”

“I am!” he said with a nod. “It’s quiet here. Easier to concentrate.”

Annette nodded. “It really is.” Her hunger for knowledge pulled her eyes down to the large pages of her textbook for a few moments, but once she had an idea, her gaze turned back to her classmate. “Why don’t we study together? We can help each other out if we get stuck.”

“Oh yes! We’ll get a lot more done working together!”

Ashe pulled a book from the shelf—one on archery and ballistae from what she could barely make out from the far cover reading: _Bows, Ballistae, and You!_—and hurriedly made his way over to her. He pulled out the chair opposite her and sat, placed the book on the table, and flipped to the table of contents, then page one hundred fifty-two.

Annette’s impatient eyes wandered away from her textbook and over to his own, “Ballistae specifically, huh? I know Gronder Field has one. Are you preparing for the Battle or Eagle and Lion?”

He chuckled, “It looks like you’ve got me all figured out, but yes. I’m hoping to pull my weight. I know if it’s not me it’ll be Bernadetta or Ignatz manning the ballista there. It would be bad for the Blue Lions if I wasn’t able to use it properly.”

“Sure would,” Annette said, tapping her fingers against the layers of pages of her textbook. “I’m sure you’ll be fine, though, Ashe. I’ve seen you use one a couple of times when training with Professor Hanneman. You’ve just gotta focus.”

“I suppose, but we’re all going to have to work harder this time. The Blue Lions may not be down just one student but two this time. So we have to build a more solid strategy as a whole. I want to get a headstart.”

Annette frowned. She hadn’t realized how much her intention of leaving had affected them, but he was right. If she were to leave, they’d be down one more member—and strength was in numbers. She had doubted it’d affect them that much, though. Her father had always told her that Dimitri was a genius among geniuses and a strategic mastermind; she had seen it with her own eyes, time and time again. He could undoubtedly find a way to prevail with or without her.

And yet, her frown stayed and grew more solemn with each passing second. “Sorry,” she apologized.

“Oh?” Ashe’s eyes widened. “I didn’t mean to make you upset! I know you’ve had your eyes on the Black Eagles for a while and we wholeheartedly support you!”

Her frown flipped into a slight smile, though, her eyes stayed glued to faint cracks on the mahogany table. “Thanks, Ashe.”

“I mean it,” he reiterated, his face and voice serious as if he were making a nation-wide declaration. “I just mean we have to work harder because we don’t want to lose, but that doesn’t mean we don’t want you to transfer. What kind of friends would we be if we didn’t wish for you to further pursue the knowledge you’ve so desperately longed for?”

With a wide, blinding smile, Annette giggled, “Okay, okay! I get it, Ashe. Thank you, your words mean a lot to me, but study first and hugs after.”

“No hugs needed,” he laughed.

“Aw, boo. I want to give you one at least. For being such a sweetheart.” She slammed the desk and donned the least convincing facade of anger. “I’m vicious with my hugs! Ask Mercie! I’ll hug you till you drop!”

They both broke out into a peal of uproarious laughter that was inappropriate for the place of study they had decided to occupy. Annette was louder—she always was. They laughed until their throats hurt and Annette started to wheeze; the whistling sound she made caused Ashe to laugh even more.

And then, Annette’s chair rocked backward. Once she felt the chair legs betray her, she knew that fate that was anchored to. One of pain coupled with a cold, dusty wooden flooring.

She crashed—and then all was quiet.

Ashe immediately stood up and pushed his chair in. “Annette!”

The response he had received was a stifled giggle that forced itself out with the force of a rocking ocean’s wave and with all of the volume of a loud stadium.

“Oh Goddess, Ashe,” she sighed. “I haven’t laughed like that in ages. Can you please help me up?”

He did immediately, applying a firm grip to her right hand and placing his left over to pull her up with all his strength. Once Annette was finally back on her feet again, she brushed the dust off of her uniform and sighed.

“Thanks,” she said. “Sorry for losing myself a bit there.”

“It’s not a problem,” Ashe said, smirking. “It would appear that you’re in a better mood than usual today.”

Annette nodded. “You’re right. I’m really excited!”

She giggled and pulled her chair out before taking a seat; Ashe did the same.

“Why’s that?” he asked. 

“Because,” Annette started, “I’ve had my eyes on the Black Eagles for a little while now like you said, even before I got to know Professor Byleth. The students from Adrestia are really good at black magic. I’m always looking to get better at it, so I was hoping I could learn a bit from some of them. Maybe even some dark magic from Hubert if I’m lucky. I feel like if I’m with the Adrestian students, I’ll get a lot better. I love Professor Hanneman’s classes on magic, but I think learning from that environment would be better for me.”

“I see,” he muttered. “Well, it would be best for you to continue in your pursuit of education in the way you think best. Honestly, I’m quite excited to see you on the battlefield, still. We do rarely get to spar.”

“The Battle or Eagle and Lion isn’t just a normal sparring session.” She shrugged. “But I get it. It’s if my application into the Black Eagles gets accepted, though.”

“I don’t think either of us doubts that it will,” Ashe stated. “Professor Byleth likes you a lot from what I can tell. You’re always hovering around her; you’re like a teacher’s pet and you’re not even in her class.”

With pink dusting her cheeks, Annette pouted. “Oh hush, you. Let’s get back to work.”

Ashe chuckled and nodded, then turned his page back to his textbook; Annette did the same. Her eyes reread words ten times over, committing complicated formulae to memory, but when curiosity and the need to help beckoned, she turned her glance back to Ashe.

His right hand's fingers played a monotonous, near-silent tune on his chin and expression-formed wrinkles spoiled his forehead. Annette watched as sage orbs hovered over the page time and time again and the fingers of the left unconsciously disheveled his fog-colored hair.

“What’s the matter, Ashe?” Annette asked, both curiosity and concern clear in her voice.

“This question’s got me stumped,” he answered. He lowered a finger to the page and traced the question as he read: “‘A ballista inside a castle is ready to fire at enemies outside. What angle should be used for the shot? Assume the ballista is the same as those at Garreg Mach. Ignore the effects of wind.’” He sighed. “This is for defensive strategy, isn’t it? Why is it so complicated? Don’t you just aim and fire?”

Annette placed both hands on the table and pushed herself up slightly to reread the question. Once she had, she pursed her lips. “Hmm…” She shook her head. “It may help to focus on maximizing target accuracy to reduce your miss rate. Oh, give me a second!”

Annette pulled her notebook towards her, and armed with a red pen, she carefully solved the question, leaving all the necessary workings and even a well-drawn diagram for Ashe to follow along with. She then flipped her notebook and presented it to him before deciding to pull her knees up and kneel on the chair so she could have a better reach over the table.

“I think I did it in a way where you can understand. If we’re using the ballista specifications given, if that ballista quarrels follow that trajectory,” Annette ran her finger down her notebook down to her answer, “they’ll hit the enemy lines, right?”

“Oh, that makes sense!” Ashe pointed to the end of Annette’s diagram. “Because the enemy line will be here!”

“That’s it!” Annette cheered. “Okay, now try using that same technique and applying it to the next problem.”

Ashe took a few seconds to glance at the problem, and once he was finished, he pursed his lips. “Oh!” He snapped his fingers. “If the walls are this high, and the enemy lines are at that distance—ah! I think I see!”

“I knew you’d get it,” Annette said confidently. 

“Wow… I didn’t expect math of all things to be useful in a siege…” Despondency pulled Ashe’s lips into a frown and his eyes to the table. “This is tough… Numbers are not my strong suit…” Then, he sighed. “But this really is the sort of thing you’d have to know if you want to command troops.”

“That’s true,” Annette stated, “but not everyone can be good with numbers. That’s why we have tacticians do these calculations for us, or prepare them before we go to battle. A century ago, the Empire’s mathematicians played a huge role in the Battle of the Wall of Fódlan; some as generals.”

“I had no idea. Hey, you really know what you’re doing Annette.”

A shy giggle fell from her rose-colored lips. “You really think so?”

“Definitely,” he said with a nod. “You’ve really done a lot of studying. I really admire that. Heck, I could see you as one of those Imperial generals creating strategies for battle.”

“Me? An Imperial general?” she chuckled. “Just because I’m joining the Black Eagles doesn’t mean I’ll turn my back on Faerghus, you know? I’m still plenty of a Kingdom girl.”

“You never know,” Ashe started with a wave of the finger. “Edelgard could try to recruit you into the Adrestian army. I wouldn’t blame her. Today I learned that you have quite a mind for such things. It’s amazing! And really admirable too.”

“Oh shush,” Annette giggled. “You’re going to make me blush… I doubt, really. She could find so many people better than me for sure. I’m not sure if army life is cut out for me anyway… I always wanted to be a teacher…” Smiling, Annette let out one final sigh. “But it’s nice to hear you say that. Why don’t we get back to studying for now, though?”

* * *

**Day 3 of the Verdant Rain Moon, 1182**

The last thing Annette had expected was that she would be returning to her room at midnight. She knew that battle at the stronghold could have been perilous, but she never would have expected that it would have turned out as horribly as it did; so horribly she could barely walk.

It had been a while since she had to see Manuela. She always despised doing so just as much as the diagnosis she was given. Both of her legs weren’t merely fractured, but broken; she considered herself lucky that she would eventually make a full recovery. What she hated more, though, was her restorative. 

Rest—and lots of it—a nightmare come to life. Annette knew that she couldn’t just rest. People needed her, there was training to be done, chores and duties that needed to be taken care of. But she also knew better than to make her legs worse than they already were. She’d be treated with white magic and compression daily so she’d make a quicker recovery, but she couldn't calm her roaring fury at the situation.

Under her breath, she cursed Ashe for ruining her and placing her in such a terrible position where she was at the mercy of her own thoughts; the ones that came of him made her furious. He had become everything he swore he never would be. He wanted to be a gallant knight, and yet he wore the robes and acted the part of bandits. It made her want to run down to the holding chambers and punch him again.

She also didn’t care to, though. Her body experienced a pain unlike any other she had experienced before. It was dull, but it was annoying—like a vexatious itch that burned like if being trapped in an undying blue flame. She was tired of it.

Annette waddled to her bed and lazily collapsed on top of it, groaning as the pain immediately intensified. She grabbed her covers and pulled them on top of her, a frown on her face as contemplated the mission’s traumatic events.

She tried to close her eyes, but every time she did, she saw Selina and the other soldiers die in front of her again, and again. Even when she had attempted to indulge in less worrisome thoughts and memories, there was always something that had reminded her of what happened.

Unable to force it any longer, she succumbed to the pain and began to cry silently, shuddering in both pain and the sudden cold that came with the rainy night as she did. All of this was too unfair; Annette wondered why the goddess had despised her so much to give her such an awful life.

It had gone wrong. Everything had gone wrong. Ever since her father left. Everything in life had just been leading up to the heartbreaks after heartaches she felt now. She knew she somehow had to be some sort of awful person worse than murderers and marauders; that this had to be a balancing of karma for sins she had long since forgotten. That was the only way.

Annette needed this. She needed to drown in despair and never see the surface again. She had turned on her country, best friend, and father. No good person committed such atrocious, blasphemous acts. Silent cries grew to wails—wails that were loud enough to be heard outside. She didn’t care.

Though, an unanticipated knock on the door that came twice pulled her ugly, puffy eyes open. She hated this. She didn’t want anyone to see her like this at all, but she knew her position. She still wanted to be available at all times. 

“Come in,” Annette said, attempting to hide her sadness but failing so miserably even she was aware. “I-I’m fine. I don’t think I locked the door, but I’m going to bed now, s-so please make it quick… A-And lock it when you’re leaving, please.”

Annette waited in anticipation, biting her lip as she couldn’t help but wonder who it was. The person said nothing in response; perhaps it was the boldest of assassins who decided to make use of midnight’s gifts. She could only wait. And when the door opened a horror stood before her dressed in red silk pajamas.

“Annette,” Edelgard called wearing an expression of palpable concern; Annette pulled her covers over instantly.

She knew it was rude, but she couldn’t deal with it at the moment. The pain, both physically and mentally, had intensified once again. Once she realized what she had done, though, more forceful tears came in concert with visceral sobs and whimpers that aimed to destroy her larynx.

Annette didn’t dare peek over the covers out of fear, but once she felt a weight on her bed, she immediately repented, saying a silent prayer to the goddess of the church that she had so boldly decided to go to war against.

“Annette, please come out,” Edelgard begged. “I would like to speak with you. While I cannot force you to, I will say it’s extremely important. I need to speak with you right now. I would like that out of respect you put aside your emotions for logical thinking and speak to me for just a brief moment.”

_Edelgard sure is damn harsh… Harsher than she needs to be… Why won’t she leave me alone…?_

Annette bit her lip once she had remembered Petra’s words from earlier: _I am hoping you realize how much faith she is having in you. I am sure it wouldn’t be bad if you began trusting in her as much as she is trusting in you._ Those words drowned out her other thoughts.

Annette decided to trust in both of them and count her blessings carefully before she ended up in deep debt. Slowly, ginger locks emerged from beneath the blanket, followed by a pair of cerulean eyes surrounded by the red lines that marked her sadness along with them along with the winding streams that kissed her cheeks.

Her pupils dilated as she watched Edelgard’s hand move slowly. Preparing for the deadliest of the emperor’s blows, she closed her eyes but reopened them once she felt her slender fingers run through her candy-cotton hair.

“If you need to cry, you’re allowed to,” Edelgard said. “Don’t let my presence stop you. I am here for you, Annette. I’m sorry I was so rash but I was hoping you could discuss what you’re feeling with me. I’ve noticed for the last two years you’ve shut me out and I simply want to know why. You would have not hesitated to tell me how you felt when we were at Garreg Mach.”

Annette sighed. She had been caught red-handed, and even though she expected that she was or would have been eventually, she was at a loss for words; the way her throat ached it was hard to push them out as is. But she managed.

“I’m sorry, Edelgard,” Annette cried. She slapped her hands to her face as more tears threatened to mar her face. “_Goddess_, I’m so so sorry! I’m such a fool! Just… execute me…! Hurt me…! Get _mad at me_ whatever…!” 

Edelgard was frankly shocked. It took a lot to make her mouth go agape, but Annette had managed to. She could barely see it between the cracks of her fingers—that expression that meant the end when she furrowed her brow in that way that only meant rage—and she prepared for the worst.

“Annette!” she shouted. “Stop this nonsense at once! You’re making me seem like I’m some sort of monster and I,” her voice shrunk into a whisper, “don’t like it… I don’t like it at all…”

“Sorry,” Annette whispered back. “Sorry for being such a damn failure, I—”

Annette recoiled not at the brief pain she felt, but once she noticed she had begun to bleed again. A scarlet stream slowly descended from her forehead and dripped to her lips. Two wounds had reopened and there was that familiar metallic taste once again. 

Edelgard pulled a crimson handkerchief, embroidered with the national symbol of Adrestia, from within the pocket of her pajama pants and wiped her dripping palm with a sigh.

“Is that the corporal punishment that you seek, Annette?” Her lips contorted into the ugliest of crestfallen frowns. “I didn’t enjoy doing that, but since you were so insistent, I delivered. I hope you’re happy.” 

She wasn’t. Just the mere recollection of what had happened caused her stomach to churn. It was sick and twisted—that harsh, no-nonsense relationship that Annette thought they had was sick and twisted—it was clear Edelgard had wanted to show her that.

Neither’s frowns left their faces. They simply sat there in a maddening silence for five long seconds, and just as Edelgard was about to get up, Annette acted. 

She grabbed her hand and held it tightly, barely whispering, “Stay, Edelgard… Please…”

Edelgard complied, seating herself comfortably on the jasmine sheets of her bed. The two shared a glance that peeked at the other’s unsure emotions and Annette sighed, interlocking her fingers with that of the emperor’s.

“Okay,” she muttered. “I’ll… I’ll talk. I know I should have, but I just… I didn’t want to bug you, Edelgard.”

“The well-being of my soldiers is important,” Edelgard stated. “The well-being of my close friends is also equally as important. Not just important, but important to me. You should know this.”

“I do now… just… I feel like an idiot.”

“It’s fine to feel that way, Annette.” Edelgard reached beneath the sheets and pulled Annette’s other hand up from beneath the covers, holding them tightly. “Just… please tell me what’s happening. I’ve noticed you haven’t confided in me since our time at the academy. Nothing other than our circumstances have changed; I’m still here for you.”

“Your position has,” Annette sighed. “You’re the Adrestian emperor and a central piece of war. You have better things to worry about other than my silly feelings…”

Edelgard pursed her lips, looking to the ceiling, clearly teetering on the line of losing herself in thought. She then shook her head and said, “Perhaps so, however, I get to choose what I concern myself with. What I’m concerned about are your feelings. I had always noticed that your gazes… they had changed—especially when you looked at me.”

Sighing, Edelgard pinched the bridge of her nose. She took a long second of pause before she continued, “They’ve become so painfully solemn, but I wanted to believe you had everything under control. You never slacked on your duties and you still always exceeded; I was naive to not think of your overly-workaholic attitude as a means of escape from your own thoughts, especially when I’ve been there myself…”

“You’ve been there…?” Annette asked.

Edelgard released a pained chuckle. “Yes, I have. I’m surprised. I wouldn’t have thought you’d think I lived a pampered life being the heir to the throne.”

“No, no, no,” Annette started. “Not like that. The workaholic thing. I’d never really thought you’d drown out your sorrows, honestly… You’re always so calm and composed.”

“I’ve heard that a lot and I’ll admit I am, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t have methods of coping. As I said, you’re a dear friend to me, but you’re not the only one who’s taking this war hard. I have to live every day knowing that two nations are wanting to kill me as quickly as possible; that I have to deal with assassination attempts on not one but two fronts. It’s hell, especially since I can never be sure who to trust. I only really can trust and confide in the Black Eagles.”

Annette quickly dried her eyes, sniffling as if she was fighting a bad cold. “Yes, I… I know it’s tough. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. The last thing I want you to be is sorry. You’ve made a mistake—we all do—it shouldn’t deter you forever. Promise me that.”

She nodded feebly. “I promise…”

Annette was then a witness to one of the rarest sights in the monastery. One only told on fables. A wide, bright smile took hold of Edelgard’s lips—then she chuckled. Annette had wondered if she went smile, but she did the same. Seeing it in person after two years was so unbelievable, yet it struck her as silly.

“That’s good, Annette,” Edelgard said. “I’m proud of you. You’ve made the first step. However, I’m afraid I’m not quite finished with questions. We captured Ashe today. I know the two of you were friends. I’m guessing that’s at least partly why you’re upset.”

“You’re absolutely right,” Annette said with a pained smile. “Ashe and I were such good friends… Just… he tried to kill me today. I know we’re at war and all, but it just… hit me. I got so angry I beat him half to death. Then I felt bad afterward.” Looking at Edelgard with wide eyes brimming with curiosity and guilt, she asked, “Is that normal, Edelgard…?”

“Tumultuous emotions like that? Of course. I completely understand that feeling.” She shook her head. “But you cannot let such things deter you in the world in which we live. There’s no time for things like that; that’s the sad reality of it.”

“I know,” Annette sighed solemnly, pulling the covers back over her now-cold body to cover right beneath her chin. “It just… really stinks, you know? I’m from Faerghus and all of my old friends are my enemies… I’m scared to fight Mercie…”

Edelgard stayed silent for a few seconds, pet Annette’s head and sighed. “Mercedes, correct? Well, the most we can do is hope we don’t see her in battle. She may just be a regular civilian. While from what I know she probably does support the Church, we’ll have to have hope. But if worse comes to worst—you need to think of it like this. When I unite Fódlan there will never be another war that will tear friendships apart like yours and Mercedes’. No one will ever have to suffer like this again, and even if it hurts now, it’s a grand ambition you’re fighting for. You need to remember that is our goal.”

Annette nodded, but then half-heartedly shrugged beneath her covers. “If you’re sure, Edelgard, but even if Fódlan is unified, what about the world at large? Man has warred over everything from the gods in which they believe, to their heritage, to land and power. The ongoing war between the Alliance and Almyrans only helps to further show that. While I’m in full support of your goals and I agree the Church is bad and needs to be stopped… it’s just something to think about at times.”

“I’m not stopping at Fódlan,” Edelgard declared with a spine-chilling seriousness. “Of course, we’re establishing with relations with the Dagdans and the people of Brigid, but I wouldn’t think that doing the same with the Almyrans and those from other locations would be a bad idea either. The Church’s reign on the people of Fódlan will come to an end, but when I am finished with this war, I won’t be finished fighting either. There will still be much to fix.”

Annette repeated Edelgard’s words in her mind. She hadn’t thought of it like that—any of it. She was always told that she had a gift for thinking outside of the box, and yet, she was sure her close-mindedness and ignorance were unrivaled by even the most naive of recruits at that moment. 

Ending the war to prevent others to come sounded wonderful; to end it to prevent other deep friendships from being severed like hers and Mercedes’ sounded even better. Annette could admit that she still held a strong doubt, though. She knew it wouldn’t be easy, but she knew Edelgard didn’t know the meaning of the word or any of its synonyms. She was the right woman for the job.

“That’s really admirable, Edelgard,” Annette admitted. “I… I guess you’re right. If Fódlan is one big nation, a war as big as this wouldn’t happen again… Our kids wouldn’t have the possibility of going through what you went through, since, well, you’d be the only leader… But if we’re being honest, I’m still kind of worried and sad. I don’t want to fight Mercie, and my father, Gustave, is part of the Knights of Seiros as well…”

Edelgard’s eyes widened. “Your father as well? I hadn’t known this… I had thought the entirety of House Dominic were supporters of the Empire.”

“That’s because you don’t know him by Gustave,” Annette explained. “You know him by ‘Gilbert Ponislav,’ the name he took up when he joined the Knights of Seiros. You’re right, though, we _are_ Imperial supporters, but Father absconded… Honestly, the first time I saw him again was at Garreg Mach… He had been gone for so long.”

“I see…” Edelgard brought a finger to her chin. “But that wasn’t fair to you, no? Why did he leave…?”

“Something about the Tragedy of Duscur. I don’t even really know myself. He wouldn’t tell me, even when I approached him about it when I was still going to Garreg Mach. He acted like he didn’t know me. He avoided me…! _Goddess_, he _kept avoiding me!_ When I’m sad and I think about it… I just… I-I just…!”

The tears returned, demanding a reactive emotional tribute. She held out for two long seconds, allowing the tears to stream down her face before she slapped her hands against her eyes and sobbed loudly. Her thoughts brought her a greater pain that made her unaware of the pain she felt when she violently kicked her broken legs.

She hadn’t exactly wanted to throw a tantrum, but when her emotions took over her senses, she couldn’t help it. She forgot that she was with her superior and simply kicked and screamed to her heart’s content. At least she did until she felt another one of Edelgard’s heavy-handed slaps against her cheek that Annette was sure had no doubt reddened it.

Edelgard held her hand there; Annette placed her own over it and interlocked their fingers.

“Annette, you’re acting like a madwoman,” Edelgard chided. “Stop it right this instant!”

Annette nodded, muttering silent apologies as she sank back beneath her sheets in an attempt to hide her shame; Edelgard didn’t let her.

Her fingers digging into the palm of her general’s hand, Edelgard cleared her throat, then said, “Listen, Annette. I will explain this to you once, and I’m sure it’s a possibility that you may dislike me at the end of this, but even if you do this is something you need to hear. The world will not stop for you. Come hell or highwater you have to know that people will come and go—even people you were absolutely sure would be there your entire life. I’m not a firm believer in fate, but I believe that the people who are meant to be in your life will stay there and find their way back to you no matter what, regardless of allegiances or nobility or anything else. If those people truly prioritize you, we would have seen them—and still, we’ve seen nothing.”

Edelgard wiped Annette’s tears with her thumb, looking her right in her eyes as she continued, “Yet, people are so selfish that they cling to their ideals over their relationships because at the end of the day, that’s what matters more. It’s hypocritical because I suppose I’m the same, but it’s just how some people are. You give them too much credit and then they betray you because of their own ideals and goals. I’ve seen it time and time again. You’ve it today, haven’t you? Ashe said he did what he did to you and the others for the sake of justice, but from my understanding friends don’t nearly kill other friends—that’s already a terrible sin in the Book of Seiros. And yet, look at what’s happening.”

“Justice is always told by who’s stronger,” Annette whimpered. “It’s… always been like that. Down to every last history book. Who prevailed simply said they were right.”

“That is true,” Edelgard sighed. “However, I’m sure you must see where I’m coming from. Annette, you need to learn to adapt and see them as enemies, because if you falter, they may kill _you_ if we were ever to meet them in battle—and possibly with no remorse. Those people you were close with, they…” Turning her head away, she trailed off, and once she began to speak again her voice was quiet. “Those people… they may hate you. They may wish to destroy every fiber of your being because they believe they’re right. If those relationships can be salvaged, Annette, do it, but if they can’t… you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. The world we’re fighting for… it’s greater than that… It hurts terribly to admit, I know… but this war is far bigger than you and your family and friends. And things may go awry, but you need to prepare for them.”

Edelgard’s words… they caused her to feel numb, not just in mind but physically as well. She had sworn suddenly weighed fifty pounds extra from how she felt her body sink in her bed like an anchor into the sea, drowning in endless darkness.

She heard Edelgard call her name once; she didn’t respond. She couldn’t at that moment, it was almost to pull her lips open. Then, she did it a second time, and despite that difficulty that was birthed by her despondency, she answered.

“Yes, I heard you, Edelgard,” she muttered. “I’m just… coming to terms with it all… It hurts… It hurts so badly I don’t even feel it anymore… I’m sure when you leave,” she gave a dry chuckle, “I’m probably going to cry myself to sleep… Probably for a couple of days…”

A frown played on Edelgard’s lips. “Annette… I…”

“It’s not your fault, Edelgard,” Annette sighed, sinking beneath her covers to hide her tear-stained face as if running from the wretched world outside. “I… I guess I hadn’t looked at it that way… Maybe my father and Mercie aren’t looking for me… Mercie’s always been a devout believer in the goddess and Father already left me for that _damn Church of Seiros_ for years anyway… Just, I need some time alone… Some time with my thoughts.”

“Annette… I…” Slowly, Edelgard closed her eyes. “At this moment, I have no intention of sulking with you. I’ll admit, you need reason with your own emotions yourself. I was told by Surgeon General Casagranda that you need rest. If you’re going to be struggling with these things, the one thing I beg of you is that you take the month off and meet with me on the first day of the Horse Bow Moon next month. I’ll have Ferdinand and Hubert take up your duties, and if they’re unavailable, I’ll deal with them myself. That’s an order. Is that understood?”

“Yes ma’am,” Annette lazily replied. “Heard…”

Edelgard stood up and began to walk to the doorway, taking slow steps that resounded in Annette’s ears whenever her bare feet would smack against the tiles—and once they finally stopped, Annette peeked up from the covers. To her surprise, Edelgard still lingered, coincidentally throwing her head back the moment Annette had noticed her.

“You know, Annette… I… lo…” She trailed off, sighing. “I like you all a lot. You’re my friends and I wish to see you prosper. I hope you’ll be able to fight your demons soon… and… I’m always available to talk to you if you so wish it. Goodnight.”

Edelgard left in a hurry, slamming the door behind her. There was silence. And then, the sounds of sobbing filled Annette’s room and didn’t stop until she had exhausted herself so badly that she passed out. Just like she said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 𝓐𝓾𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓻'𝓼 𝓝𝓸𝓽𝓮:
> 
> Hello again! Thank you for finishing this chapter, it's always extremely appreciated when someone reads this work! It's a really big passion project for me at the moment and I love writing it.
> 
> Summer ends tomorrow for me, though, so with courses starting up again, the chapters may take a bit or even a while longer. I'll have to see how I can fit writing this into my schedule, but if production slows down, I do hope you all will be patient with me.
> 
> How did you find this chapter? I actually feel as if I had some trouble with Edelgard, but I'm hoping I did her justice! All sorts of feedback would be appreciated! I simply hope to improve!
> 
> EDIT: Also, how do you all feel about my style in this chapter? I tried a more simplistic approach towards it. I hope it’s not too grating or uninteresting to read. If it is, I’d love to know! I think it’d be an important tip to avoid this sort of approach in the future.


	7. Chapter 7

**Day 3 of the Pegasus Moon, 1180**

Looming above her, the sun merely gazed from the valley of clouds, and the roaring waves played at her toes, grazing them just slightly with its frisky touches; Marianne could never understand what was so perfect about today.

She and Hilda shared a bashful skinship as their fingers delicately played on the other’s knuckles as they sat along Edmund’s golden sands and wordlessly stared at seas of glistening silver. To Marianne, it didn’t seem like much of a birthday party; especially not for Hilda.

Every party she had been to before, there was a grand ball at the Goneril estate with expensive-looking masks and red wines with alcohol content so high men and women alike they’d stumble with one sip. Dozens would come, offering large gifts wrapped in pink—_all of them_ in pink—and they’d praise her for how lazily she’d grown. 

But today, it was just the two of them, staring at a sight admittedly mundane to both of them that they could see whenever they pleased. Marianne’s hand jerked once she felt Hilda’s grip strengthen, grasping her attention and saving her from the onslaught of her inquisitive thoughts.

The smile that played on Hilda’s lips was unlike any other she had seen before. It overflowed with a certain gaiety that was delighting to simply gaze at—but there was something else. Bashfulness and apprehension. Marianne knew Hilda well enough to know darkness lingered.

“I’m so happy you let me come to Edmund today, Marianne,” Hilda said. “There truly is no one else I’d rather spend my eighteenth birthday with than you…”

Her voice was dry—resounding in faux confidence that would have been obvious to even those who barely knew her. Marianne wondered not just why she was upset, but if she was making it purposefully obvious as well; not sure of her true intent, Marianne forced a smile.

“Me too,” Marianne sighed. “I’m so pleased you invited me…! I hadn’t expected you’d wanted to come here, but I’m glad you came to Edmund today… It’s been two long weeks since I’ve seen you, friend…!”

Hilda nodded. “It has been a while. It’s my party and we haven’t even talked… How are you?”

“I’m fine,” Marianne answered.

“And your father?”

“Also fine…”

As Hilda’s cherry-polished lips opened, they immediately closed, then pulled into a frown. She threw her gaze towards the sparkling ocean. Curiosity caused Marianne’s head to tilt and her eyes immediately analyzed her solemn gaze; Hilda froze.

Marianne wasn’t aware that her tired gaze had scratched the glass that had protected her true feelings until Hilda pulled away with an uncomfortable look and threw her gaze back toward the boundless sea—and their hands bid one another an unwilling farewell, like two lovers parting ways.

Marianne couldn’t help but feel sad at their parting. It was something that she never knew she wanted at that moment, but it was unbelievably pleasant to hold Hilda’s hand. Soft and comfortable as an expensive silk garment, the feeling alone was spellbinding, and the fact that she engaged in such an intimate action with her best friend—her only friend—nearly made her heart stop, even if she had done it time and time again. She frowned immediately after.

As Hilda’s fingers tapped against the sand, she released a forced giggle. “You know, you’re really creepy when you want to be, Marianne…”

Even though Hilda’s words cut her already-bleeding heart, she smiled through the pain and giggled, but as she did, she brought about disquieting guilt that messed with her mind and stirred a whirlwind of negative thoughts.

No longer able to keep her awkward facade of faux mirth, she frowned and hurriedly looked away. “I’m sorry…! I probably ruined your birthday…”

In a quiet panic, Marianne spun away from Hilda—but was greeted by a familiar silkiness beneath her hand. It was as if fate itself brought them together once again to find solidarity within shared discomfort. Even though Marianne’s cheeks were dusted a timorous pink, she didn’t dare retreat, instead, capturing her hand once again out of worry that her wonderful contact would once again elude her.

Shy eyes exchanged brief pleasantries before deciding to linger; Marianne hadn’t expected Hilda’s reaction was so similar to her own. She, too, blushed with a violent pink that threatened to attack her ears—but in a way in which Marianne wasn’t quite sure of, it was different; the insecure smile on her lips hinted at it.

Giggling softly, Hilda muttered, “Here we are once again, Marianne. Holding hands like star-crossed lovers. Are you sure just spending time with you is my gift… Or perhaps my gift _is_ you…”

Even though the fact that Hilda was merely teasing her was obvious, Marianne’s cheeks only burned more brightly at her comment. 

“Oh, hush,” Marianne muttered, shyly turning her head away. “That’s… not all that nice… You shouldn’t tease me like that… No one would want me as a gift anyway… You told me you didn’t want a gift and you just wanted some time with me…”

“You’re fine,” Hilda laughed. She flipped her hand over to hold the one desperately clinging above hers, locking their soft fingers. “I’d want you as a gift, but worry about it. If you like it, you can hold my hand whenever you’d like.”

Marianne let out a small gasp, then smiled. “Oh, um, thank you, Hilda… It means a lot…”

“Don’t mention it. I’ll admit it’s nice… and…”

Hilda trailed off and, concerned, Marianne leaned in just enough for the faint scent of her strawberry perfume to tickle her nose. This time, Hilda didn’t pull away, only tighten her grip.

“What’s wrong?” Marianne asked. “You’ve been a little apprehensive all day…”

Hilda released a loud, exaggerated sigh. “It took you long enough to catch me. Yeah, I’m worried. I received my letter of acceptance to Garreg Mach today.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Marianne clapped her hands together and her lips curled into a wide smile. “You wanted to get in, right? What Golden Deer class are you in? Economics? Sociology? Business?”

“Combat,” Hilda answered with a frown. “My second choice.”

Marianne froze. “Your second choice was to join the combat-focused class…? I’m… I’m shocked? I didn’t think you’d choose that at all.”

“I wanted to be with you if worse came to worst, Marianne. I want to have a friend when I arrive at Garreg Mach in two months in my class. That and Holst _kind of_ made me. I’ll admit, though, I didn’t actually expect I’d be accepted into it. I don’t have many good things going for me… My arms are like wet noodles…

Marianne giggled. “From all your training with Holst, I’d say your arms are far from wet noodles… Oh, um, so I think anyway…”

Hilda huffed and turned her head. “Hey! They are…! You know Holst drags me to train with him!”

“I’d be thinking they’d think that younger sister of the person that’s believed to be the next leader of the Leicester Alliance who’s known to train with him is someone they’d be looking at specifically for the combat class over…?”

“Economics,” Hilda answered.

Marianne nodded slowly. “Yes, right… Is that what you’re upset about? That you didn’t get in your first choice…”

“A little bit,” she whispered. “But… I know you’re just going to say that I should make the most of it anyway. I know you too well, Marianne.”

Marianne raised a finger in protest but decided to clench her teeth together behind closed lips once she scoured her barren mind and found no rebuttal. That was what she was going to say; Hilda did know her too well.

“Are we still going to pretend like we don’t know one another when we get there?” Hilda asked, biting her lip immediately after. “Because I’m… still not understanding exactly why.”

Marianne gave her the same reason she always did in a soft mumble: “Because I want a fresh start. I think it’d be better for us if we made new friends instead of unintentionally clinging to one another… That’s what I believe anyway… I want you to have a lot of new friends to spend time with too…”

Her father had taught her well, she was getting better at telling bold-faced lies. She hadn’t let her muscles tense nor let her eyes drift with the sea. Her lips curled into a genuine smile, though she could feel a hole had formed in the heart that she assumed she had—she didn’t know if she had any to begin with.

She would never dare tell Hilda of her true nature; that she was born a beast within the skin of a woman—and that she still had fangs to bear. She had already begun to gobble Hilda in her lies. Only the goddess knew what else she was capable of.

“Okay.” Hilda grabbed her other hand. “I’ll do that if that’s what you want, Marianne. It doesn’t mean we can’t be friends, at least. I’d be really sad if you were asking me not to talk to you or anything…”

“So would I…” A coy smile pulled at Marianne’s lips. “I’m happy about that. I’m not sure… I could lose you, honestly… But, um, I’m sure you’ll be great in class. We can always share notes as well… I’m sure with both of us working together, we’ll be fine… We’ll find a way to succeed, even in a class as difficult as ours… Because it’s what we chose, of course. So we have to follow that path…”

“You know, Marianne. I know Margrave Edmund kind of forced you into going, but I’m surprised that Combat was your first choice, you told me? I always thought that was a weird choice for you. I never expected you’d want to be a knight, and your adoptive father owns one of the most lucrative businesses in Leicester. I always thought you’d take Economics or Business.”

“I…” Marianne paused. “I can, um, learn all that I need to about business from my father. He knows best as shown by his substantial financial growth within the last two years… I want to learn to protect myself… and the people I care about—like you. I think it’s important to have a skill like that…”

Marianne pushed her smile further across her face and squeezed Hilda’s hands. Even in her feigned gaiety, she knew as she saw Hilda, Hilda saw her. She had to see the discontent lingering beneath the surface because an expression of concern manifested itself upon her face.

Marianne didn’t say anything, though. She could never tell Hilda the real reason she wanted to join that class was she wished to waltz onto the line of death.

* * *

**Day 10 of the Verdant Rain Moon, 1182**

The vexing, monotonous sound of her crimson wall clock striking each second echoed in her room. Sprawled out on her queen-sized bed, Marianne stared at the ceiling, unaware of the time that had passed. Had it been seconds, hours, minutes? She didn’t know.

Ever since they last met, thoughts of Hilda had never left her mind. Wherever she went, she saw her face—heard her voice—it was starting to drive her crazy. She hadn’t spoken to her since the first, but despite that, the more days that evaded her, the more it felt like the last time she had seen her had been yesterday.

Derdriu was a long way away from Edmund and the war was both costly of one’s time and taxing to one’s soul. It was obvious that Hilda didn’t have time to go on her usual shopping sprees and to loiter at those expensive restaurants she loved so much with her—but that didn’t stop her from wishing to do all those things. More than anything, she needed to know if she had somehow died—even if the chances were chimerically slim.

Once the clock struck twelve, the tune changed. It chimed triumphantly as of to reward her for surviving this long. The fact that it had already been ten lagging days amazed her, especially since she had been trapped in the chambers of mental torture that had been her bedroom day in and day out.

Even though she knew it felt like it consumed her, time was escaping her grasp. She hopped off the bed and dragged herself over to her desk before sitting and scrambling through the mountain of half-written speeches, poems, and letters that she let linger. It took two long minutes before she finally found a loose sheet of foolscap folio.

Pulling a black ink pen toward herself, she started: _Dear, Edelgard._ She cursed under her breath. Wrong name. She fervently crossed lines through the name and accidentally tore the paper. Frustrated, she threw her hands in the air before slamming them against wood.

Suddenly feeling very tired, Marianne wanted to sleep, but she couldn’t. The trumpets outside played anything but an elegant tune—in fact, they were so annoyingly out of tune that Marianne considered flinging her pen out of the window—but she knew what it meant. She had an important visitor.

Creeping over to the window, she peeked through the tinted frame and what she saw immediately made her muscles tense. There were soldiers—about nine or ten—proudly wearing the twirling flag of the Leicester Alliance on their back as they rode onto her father’s property. She tried to make out if there were any familiar faces, but their helmets all obscured them.

It was funny how wars stripped soldiers of their identity and individuality. In the blanketed in the night’s curse, men and women alike blended into anonymity. Neither she nor her father were fans, it was why troops designated to Edmund territories wore smaller masks that made their features more apparent. 

She steeled her resolve once again, preparing for the worst. As the soldiers marched to her front door, she quickly grabbed her combat knife and strapped it underneath the currant-strewn satin nightgown. When the doorbell rang, she knew she ran out of time.

Hurriedly, she bolted down the stairs, bobbling at the final one. The doorbell rang a second time—the second she took to catch her breath. She continued her sprint over to the door to greet the soldiers at the door.

When she opened it, she realized body types immediately—five men and five women—and she nodded to them, slipping on her sandals as she greeted in the soldiers.

“Had I known Alliance soldiers were coming, I would have prepared tea,” Marianne said, taking a quick gasp for breath. “Might I be able to help you?”

One of the female soldiers stepped forward and with a sigh, she quickly pulled off her helmet; Marianne gasped. She quickly stepped back once she had recognized a former classmate of hers, Leonie Pinelli, whom she hadn’t seen for nearly two years.

She lacked any urge to embrace her or remember less bitter days—instead, she dug her heels into the ground and stared into eyes like sunstone that sparkled in the night. There was no happiness, they both wore expressionless veneers; that’s how they knew they both meant business.

“Hello, Miss Edmund,” Leonie greeted. “It’s been a long time.”

“Same to you.” She paused. “Commander…? Major…?”

“Captain,” Leonie answered plainly with a nod. “Captain Leonie Pinelli.”

Marianne quickly scanned the differences in her features. Though their time apart had been short, she nearly had the visage of a different woman. Leonie had always been serious, but that stern expression she wore stereotypical of her title—Marianne knew it was a product of the war.

“Ah, Captain Pinelli.” Marianne bowed. “How may I help you?”

“Be less elusive next time, Marianne,” she said, causing one of the soldiers behind her to snicker; Leonie raised her right hand and then there was a deafening silence. “I was surprised when I checked the Edmund estate and you weren’t there. Any reason?”

“This is his private residence,” Marianne explained. “My father and I always come here around this time of the year. It’s closer to the seaside; it helps me think. I’m still confused, though. You were seeking _me_ out? I’m sorry… my father is away on business in Derdriu.”

Marianne held her breath for a moment and stared at Leonie, feigning innocence. Reaching for her knife wasn’t an option—it would be too obvious. She knew she couldn’t attempt to overpower Leonie either—she never could—and especially with her entourage of characterless Alliance caricatures.

She needed her best performance.

Marianne forced a smile that was anything but sinister and bounced on her heels, placing her hands behind her back. She watched Leonie carefully—watched as she blinked over and over and her lips curled into a steeper frown—and when she was finished, stepped back.

Marianne placed her hand atop her bust and cleared her throat. “Oh, pardon me! Sorry, sorry! I’ve just been an awful mood recently, honestly. Um, did I seem terse or rude…? Would you like to come—?”

“Marianne,” Leonie sighed, exasperated. “My men and I came to deliver your mail.”

“Oh!” Marianne blinked and let her shoulders hang loosely. “My mail?”

“Is that so strange?”

“I wasn’t aware that Alliance soldiers became mailmen. And that captains left their posts to ensure that it gets delivered.”

“My post is in Edmund,” Leonie said plainly. “I was stationed here just yesterday to watch over you specifically while Margrave Edmund is out on business. I’m to make sure you and your territory are safe.”

“And my father allowed this?”

“Duke Riegan _ordered_ this.”

_Just what is Claude up to…?_

Marianne watched Leonie’s eyes carefully, using it as a decoder to her words; there was no revelation to be had. There were no lingering lies playing at her lips, nor shifty eyes that showed more sinister intent, but she could have sworn on her life that this was a matter of political intrigue.

There was nothing she could do about it, though. She knew any pushy question wouldn’t bode well for her. She could only nod as if she was one of those feeble, thoughtless noble girls, and smile like a princess on her crowning.

“Of course, um, my mail please?” Marianne held out her hand.

“Hold a moment,” Leonie said before clearing her throat. “Gaunt. My bags.”

One of the soldiers hurried over to Leonie’s horse, pulled her luggage from the carriage painted gold, and heaved three undoubtedly heavy cases of luggage over to her. He dropped them carefully with a quick sigh, saying, “Your bags, Captain,” before he returned to his position behind her.

“And the bags?” Marianne asked.

“I’ll be living with you, of course,” Leonie said, brushing her hair away from her face. “Though I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting to live here. I was looking forward to living in a fancy noble estate.” Leonie turned back to her soldier and swung her fingers in a semicircle. “You’re all dismissed by the way! Don’t forget your training! If anything happens, we must protect this territory to the best of our abilities! Claude’s counting on us, so failure—!”

“Is not an option!” the soldiers all finished in unison, hastily placing their legs together and raising their arm into the stiffest salutes that Marianne had ever seen. “Ma’am, yes, ma’am!”

Saddling up on their horses, the soldiers all rode away from Marianne’s aura of internal dread. It was so funny she couldn’t help but allow her smile to grow wider. With a few words, her life had ended.

“Marianne,” Leonie called as she unzipped one of her bags and dumped her helmet in. “It’s just you and me now. Can I let myself inside? These bags won’t unpack themselves, you know?”

Leonie smiled like they were simple schoolgirls talking on campus once again; Marianne didn’t trust her. It was such a jarring difference in her demeanor and tone that she physically staggered back, placing her hand on the doorway. She blinked once—twice—and cleared her dry through.

“Oh, um, sorry, Captain,” she said. “I was not expecting you to talk to me in such a manner after how stern you seemed before. It’s a bit jarring, I won’t lie.”

“Huh? If we’re forced together, I’d rather we be on friendly terms. I’m not changing for the sole fact that I know you. I’m tough with my soldiers—those were recruits who needed to learn—but you’re not fighting for an army. You’re an ex-classmate of mine and friend too. I’d think the least I could do is act cordially.”

Still smiling and with a disquiet stirring within her, Marianne asked, “You meant friend and not ex-friend, right?”

“We’ll talk about it when we’re inside.”

With her simplistic response, Marianne had her answer. She commended herself for gliding through her subtle interrogation as well as she did, but she still needed a plan. She didn’t know how long Leonie would be staying, and she knew she couldn’t ask at the moment, which meant that her contact with Edelgard could be stifled for an indeterminate amount of time.

She had no idea what that meant for the Empire as a whole, but she knew that it couldn’t be good; a moment of silent panic came once she realized. However, she didn’t dare show it while in the presence of an Alliance captain.

She stepped back and allowed her captor to enter with her weighty bags that looked like they were filled with bricks the way that even she struggled to pull them through the doorway. When she had, she dropped her bags near the kitchen chairs and reached for the high wooden ceiling above.

“Nice place regardless,” Leonie yawned. “I think I’ll enjoy living here, honestly. It’s cozy. Way better than the barracks for sure.”

“Um, thank you,” Marianne said. “My father worked hard on designing this place. He really enjoys the seaside, so he made a retreat for us when summer comes. I’m quite fond of it myself, though I understand you’re disappointed that I’m not staying at the Edmund estate. Though, if I was expecting visitors, I would have tidied up a bit more.”

“Sorry about that, but I’m sure you can understand why I did come. I was only informed of my needed trip this—or I guess it would be yesterday morning, actually. So we’re both a bit disoriented, honestly. It’s a long ride from the Great Bridge of Myrddin to Derdriu and then to Edmund. I’ve been traveling since yesterday morning.”

“I’m surprised that you’ve arrived so quickly if that were the case. I’m shocked, actually. Won’t you sit?”

Leonie shrugged, pulled out a mahogany chair, and sat. “If you’re an Alliance captain, you need to learn how to get places quickly, in all honesty. It’s not that big of a deal. I’m used to such long rides. My soldiers are usually beside themselves though, but it’s good for them. They need to have a real taste of what it’s like. They know what they signed up for and that it wouldn’t be easy, so there’s no use in complaining about something as trivial as long travels to me; you get to see more of Leicester anyway.”

“Agreed,” Marianne said. “Though, I must ask one—no _two_ things.”

“Go ahead.”

“Firstly,” Marianne raised a finger, “would you like some tea? Secondly, why Edmund of all places? It’s a relatively safe province. I’m not sure we need an Alliance captain trifling herself with an area such as this.”

“Your point? I’m _just_ an Alliance captain. If we really needed someone of a higher rank we would have sent someone like Judith instead. Four-Spice Blend, by the way.”

Nodding, Marianne hurried over to the gas stove and placed the kettle on the closest left burner before lighting it. “Tea leaves or tea bags?”

Placing her hands against her knees, Leonie nervously looked to the side. “Is there a difference?”

“Tea leaves are generally more flavorful. Tea bags are actually made of the fanning of tea leaves. Tea bags you can buy in bulk, though, and they’re generally more portable. That means that, at the moment, they’re a bit more expensive to buy, but as a whole, they’re generally cheaper than tea leaves for the same amount per gram.”

“Damn. I didn’t know that.” Leonie bit her lip. “I’ve been dealing with tea wrong the whole time. And here I thought they were the same.”

Marianne waved lightly. “It’s not an issue. It’s a common mistake amongst the common folk and even a lot of nobles. Most people are insistent on using tea leaves nowadays regardless. They’re a lot more common. I like to keep both just in case.”

“Right.” Leonie nodded. “Tea bags then.”

“Of course.” Marianne opened her cupboard doors and shuffled through the various brands of expensive tea, tucking away the box of Hresvelg Blend she had imported as she said, “So, back on topic. Why specifically Edmund territory?”

“Well, there’s the obvious Almyran attacks,” Leonie started. “Edmund is close to the coast which means they could invade at any time. Claude doesn’t want to take that risk; neither do I. We need Edmund.”

“I know that. What I’m questioning is the fact that you chose Edmund specifically over Goneril? They need all the troops they can receive and it’s not a wise move to spread your soldiers so vastly. If it were me, I’d make sure I’d have as many soldiers as I could in Goneril after the incident with Holst.”

Leonie raised an eyebrow. “You know about that?”

“Hilda told me.” A pause. “Was she not supposed to?”

The captain shook her head and placed her hands atop the table. “No, it’s fine. It’s public information. Regardless, now that he’s dead, Claude believes that it’s unpredictable from where they’ll attack next. But since you asked before, yes, your father did allow this. Happily; hell, even said it would be good for you to have a friend from school over and that you should think of it as a sleepover.”

Marianne pinched her forehead and released her annoyance in a loud sigh that echoed against the walls. 

“Sounds just like him, honestly,” she said, “but while you’re here, I’ll make the most of it. It’s been years, Leonie. I’m glad this war hasn’t consumed you yet.” She spun on her heels, her fingers coiling around the countertop behind her as she said, “I like your ponytail. I think it suits you.”

“Ha,” Leonie laughed. “You and me both, honestly. I still don’t know what I was thinking with the pixie cut. Thank you, though. I’m glad I’m in good health too, but before we go any further, we should get to business.”

Behind her, the kettle whistled as if signaling the end. Marianne didn’t even nod. The tension that suddenly attacked the room weighed against her shoulders as if gravity was against her and made her muscles stiffen to form a body of stone.

Mechanically, she pulled the kettle off the stove and dropped the tea bag inside. She then pulled a blue ceramic teacup with the design of a foal on the front from the cupboard and slowly poured. With each audible splash, she could feel Leonie’s eyes staring at the sins crawling down her back.

Once she was finished, she set the teacup aside, and with a sigh, donned a mask of a smile and walked over, staring blankly at Leonie’s dubious expression; it was almost as if she was lost. When she finally reached the table, Marianne carefully slid the cup over with both hands and Leonie cleared her throat.

She blinked. “This teacup is a little childish, don’t you think, Marianne?”

“I-It’s my favorite one?” Marianne cleared her throat, her lips unconsciously curling into a small frown. “Um, I thought you’d like it too, sorry…”

“No, no, I’m not picky. I was just… I don’t know what I was expecting. Never mind it.” Leonie raised the cup to her lips and took a long sip. “It’s good,” she placed the cup on the table, “but I won’t delay any longer.”

Leonie reached for her hip and unzipped a brown satchel. In it were letters—lots of them—undoubtedly her mail for the week. She scattered them on the desk, covering her half of it in a sea of white.

“Go through them,” Leonie ordered. “All of them.”

Sighing, Marianne complied. She stared deeply into Leonie’s eyes, raising an eyebrow in irritation. She carelessly picked up the first letter. “Bills.” The second. “Bills.” The third. “Bills.”

“That one isn’t. It’s a letter. Look at the seal on the front.”

Marianne flipped the letter over in her fingers. What she saw she knew was her own undoing.

Sarcastically, Leonie cheered, “Well, would you look at that? The seal of Adrestia.”

Marianne’s expression was cold, stony, and bore no emotion; even though internally she worried like a naive soldier who was taking their last few breaths. “It is. I’m confused about your point… Do you believe I’ve been writing letters to Imperial officials? Did Duke Riegan ask you to ask me this too?”

“Of course not. This is for my own clarity. You never know these days, Marianne.” Coiling her index and middle fingers around the handle of the cup, she said, “I didn’t expect to hear about you partaking at the Battle of Garreg Mach—to so readily stand against the goddess, Sothis, who you once loved so much,” before taking a sip.

Marianne shifted in her chair, turning her gaze towards the table. “My atheism has nothing to do with you,” she said solemnly, and closing her eyes to stare into the darkness, she finished, “or that letter. I think your assumption is bold, but it is also foolish…”

“And you have bolder words,” Leonie grunted.

Reopening her eyes, she sighed. “I can’t change the truth. Plenty of people receive letters from Adrestia, be it news or otherwise. Because _I specifically_ received a letter from there doesn’t brand me as a traitor. If I were with the Empire, I would be in Adrestia. I’ve had the opportunity more than once, I’ll admit. Edelgard has even tried to recruit me to be a high-ranking officer at her command, and yet, here I live and breath Leicester—home to the Alliance.”

“I see.” Leonie tapped the same finger of each hand down onto the wood slowly, one after the next, smiling sweetly as she did. “So you’re a spy?”

Clenching her jaw and deftly killing her will to jerk in her chair, she shook her head. “Nothing of the sort. It’s blasphemous to think that, honestly. And what would I be telling them? How I sit at home all day and cook and clean?”

“_Or_ what’s going on between the Alliance nobles. We both know you have access to that, Heir of Edmund.”

Marianne shifted in her seat and sighed. “Please stop this, Leonie. It’s becoming tedious. _I’m not an Imperial spy._ I understand your situation. Attacking the Alliance in its weakened state would be opportune, but my suggestion would be to focus your attention away from the Empire and Kingdom and towards Almyra.”

“The Almyrans are attacking as a display of strength. Nothing more. A full-scale invasion is a while away. Pretty sure you told Hilda that.” She smiled wryly. “Isn’t that right, Marianne?”

Looking to the side Marianne answered, “I did, but it doesn’t mean they won’t be a threat later down the line.” Her eyes slowly moved back to Leonie. “I think so because—”

“Because,” Leonie heightened her pitch as she spoke as if to play the role of the poor noble girl caught in the captain’s trap, “the Almyrans don’t stand a chance against Alliance archers, um, I think they’ll be felled by arrow after arrow! Yes, I think so.” Leonie groaned. “Yeah, right, Marianne. Why can’t you just be honest with me like you are with Hilda? You shouldn’t tell her one thing and then me another.”

So badly did Marianne want to curse Leonie, but she didn’t need to. The clever smile that played on her lips said all the unkind words she needed to.

“There’s a reason I said your assumptions are foolish, Leonie… I was speaking with the assumption of _if they were to invade at the moment._ Not later. Armies grow large; they consume all around them with their strength. Do you not think that attacking Leicester with a bigger army would cause undoubtedly more trouble? Especially with Holst dead? Don’t worry about the Empire. If they invade, they invade. Do your best to fend them off, but Faerghus will invade them as well and them Faerghus. They happily keep one another busy. Almyra is focused on Leicester alone, even if it’s an entryway to other places in the continent, and thus, they are a larger threat.”

Leonie smirked and rested her elbow on the desk and her hand in her palm. “I see why Claude wants you in our ranks now. You truly are something else. You’re not even involved with the war—well, supposedly anyway—and yet, you’re so adept with strategy and battle. It’s like a gift to you.”

Shyly, Marianne turned her head. “It’s nothing… Don’t worry about it.”

“I won’t and I’ll forget about it for now. I’m more concerned about the letter anyway.”

“There’s nothing in it,” Marianne sighed. “It’s nothing that’s your business… I don’t have to show you. I’m sorry, but please drop this tiresome Imperial spy nonsense at once. It clearly won’t get either of us anywhere and only serves to make the night longer than it’s supposed to be. But if you must know it’s a simple letter from an Imperial citizen. Not an officer or official. It’s a commoner friend of mine who attended the academy with me…”

“And her name?”

“I won’t say. Now please don’t push this any further.” A sigh. “Why are you so insistent on proving I’m a traitor? I can understand wanting to protect your country, but this is something else…”

Leonie’s face exchanged stalwart seriousness for deep-seated sullenness. It was like her veneer of being a commander had washed away, and finally, she had allowed herself to be truly vulnerable—almost at her mercy. Her eyes met Marianne’s and her fingers drummed slowly on the table.

“I’m so serious about this because they killed a good man like Captain Jeralt, and they keep killing. I will _never_ forgive that.” Her eyes lowered to the table and then raised to Marianne. “That’s why I have to know if you are or not. I won’t risk getting close to you if I know you’re one of them. I know that the chances are slim and I’m making myself look like an idiot trying to pry for answers, but a chance is a chance—and I won’t take chances after Kronya. I’ll happily kill as many Imperials as I can and I won’t hold back if I know them either—you included.”

Marianne gulped. She recalled what a stumbling, depressed mess Leonie was when Captain Jeralt had died during their time at the academy. It was almost surreal the way that young woman had grown into a strong captain following in his footsteps, even though she had hardly known him; even more surreal how such ego-born traits like the need for revenge still lingered.

She was human. Marianne respected that. Leonie was only twenty-one years old going on twenty-two. She still had a full life ahead of her and immaturity to spare. She didn’t think a drive like hers was a bad thing as long as it was contained, but Marianne had no will to spout such words of wisdom about it when Leonie was in a state of vulnerability; it’d be terrible for both of them.

Sighing, Marianne said, “You shouldn’t worry about such things now.”

Marianne took both of Leonie’s hands and smiled softly. Leonie recoiled at first, staring down at her hands with eyes as wide as saucers, but she then tightened her grip and sighed, continuing to listen to Marianne as she continued.

“It’ll just make you mad if you throw skepticism around every corner. Trust should come hand in hand with an equal amount of distrust. If you trust too little, you’ll be questioning too much and end up in situations like this. Clearly, you’ve had a long travel. You should shower and rest a bit, honestly. We only have one bed since my adoptive father doesn’t enjoy people going into his bedroom so it’ll appear as if I’ll have to sleep on the floor, which isn’t an issue.”

Leonie chuckled. “No, you don’t. I don’t mind sleeping in the same bed as you, honestly. We’re both girls and we’ve known one another for long enough, it’ll be fine.”

Crimson dusted Marianne’s cheeks and out of embarrassment, she swung her head away and closed her eyes. “Isn’t that… a little indecent?”

“Only if you make it,” Leonie answered with a shrug. “I’m sure we’ll figure it out when we get inside. I’ll finish my cold tea, take a quick shower, and then we can work on sleeping arrangements, okay?”

“Um, okay, I’ll tidy up some, then. My room is a little messy, but I should be able to fix it a bit.”

“Well that’s a development,” Leonie laughed. “I remember you used to be awful at cleaning. Super clumsy as well.”

“Oh, har har,” Marianne said dryly as she stood up and pushed in her chair. “Time changes us. Sometimes for the better. With how often my father is away on business, I’ve had to learn to do such things for myself. Regardless, I should get going.”

Marianne bowed politely and hurried over to the stairs, but the moment her fingers could curl around the thin wooden railing, Leonie spoke, halting her in her tracks.

“Oh, and Marianne?”

“Hm?”

“It was nice to see you.” She paused, then spat with a caustic venom, “But _never_ lie to me. I’ll trust you, as I said, but if I find you’ve been spinning tales and you _are_ an Imperial soldier it’ll be your bloody funeral.”

Marianne’s only response to such a daunting statement was a simple gasp and a nod.


	8. Chapter 8

**Day 11 of the Verdant Rain Moon, 1182**

As Marianne’s eyes finally opened, a pained groan slipped past her lips. Sleeping with Leonie had been like being murdered with a hammer. She kicked, scratched, and punched all throughout her sleep—and violently; Marianne didn’t get much rest at all. Leonie was a one-woman army; soldiers all over Fódlan must’ve feared her. 

She must’ve been dreaming about the war if her whisper-shouts of ‘I’ll tear your head from your shoulders!’ and ‘Make them regret they were ever born!’ were any clues to go by. Marianne had never expected that Leonie would get nightmares—of course, assuming that was one. She honestly didn’t have any trouble believing that Leonie had homicidal dreams after their conversation earlier in the morning.

Even though she was thinking about her, Marianne hadn’t initially taken note of Leonie’s absence. She sighed in relief and laid on her stomach, stretching her arms across the bed so her hands dangled over the edge. It was a moment of much-needed respite.

She took a deep breath, remembered yesterday’s near-dangerous events, and cursed the position she was in. She still found it hard to believe that she had been cornered so soon even though she had played all of her cards correctly. It was only a question of how well she could adapt now.

She couldn’t be alone with her thoughts for long, though—a loud _crash_ downstairs grasped her attention and she stood on frenzied feet. Before she could even take her first step, smoke tickled her nose and ambushed her lungs.

Worrying if her house was set ablaze, she rushed down the stairs, nearly tripping once again on the final step. Once she found her footing, she found that the smoke was coming from outside and she smelled the wafting aroma of hickory smoked ham.

Peeking around the doorway that led to her patio, she saw Leonie, clad in only an orange tank top and matching cotton knickers, kneeling on the floor and watching the meat cook in her smoker. Marianne sighed in relief, glad that her house wasn’t being burnt to the ground. However, when she looked at Leonie again with a clearer head, her gaze lingered—and her cheeks burned brightly.

“Blushing Beauty!” Leonie called upon noticing her with a bright smile. “Good morning!”

Startled, Marianne jumped, then sighed before she walked forward and said, “Um, good morning, Leonie. I wasn’t expecting that you’d be cooking this morning. I was planning to handle that myself, actually.”

“_You? Cook for me?_” Leonie laughed. “I never would have expected you to say that.”

“Why’s that? You’re my guest.”

“To my knowledge, most nobles don’t cook,” she said. “I’m honestly surprised that you do. I don’t remember you on cooking duty at the academy at all, now that I think about it.”

“It’s because Claude always insisted,” Marianne stated. “His food was good, though, so I can’t complain. At times I do miss his spicy sweet buns and vegetable chowder.”

“Really?” Leonie blinked. “He makes those sweet buns all the time for his war meetings. They’re good, but I’ve stuffed down so many I’m starting to get sick of them. At least they’re healthy. I had him lower the sugar content a bit—even though he argued that it would clash with the recipe.”

“I would agree. It’s not good for soldiers to have something so sugary if it’s often.”

Leonie nodded. “We have war meetings every two weeks, yes. It’s generally everyone from our class, Judith, and a couple of his generals—oh and Count Gloucester. Holst used to be there too, but you know how that went.”

A frown pulled at Marianne’s lips. “It’s a shame. I’m still sorry about what happened to him. Holst was always such a kind man… What I’m more surprised about is that Claude so willingly changed the recipe. You and I both know how much those sweet buns mean to him.”

Leonie laughed, “He was probably tired of me bitching and moaning about it. He didn’t go down without a fight, though. I bugged him for months.” She paused, waving away smoke from her face. “I don’t think he was serious about it, though. You know Claude—he’ll tell you things just to mess with you. Speaking of food, though, this looks to be done. Want some?”

“You made some for me?”

With a wide smile, Leonie said, “Just for you. I thought you’d like some. You still do eat meat, don’t you?”

“I haven’t become a vegetarian, no.” Shyly, Marianne turned her head and ran her finger along a silky cheek. “I just wasn’t expecting you’d make me breakfast. It’s a nice gesture, Leonie.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she pulled an iron skewer from one of the white ceramic plates next to her, “just give me a second… Or hey—a hand, actually? Help me with the fire.”

Marianne knelt and conjured a strong against her palms, which she then directed towards the dying flame. It took a few seconds, but with a few final flickers, it vanished. Marianne then stood and stepped back. Leonie, armed with kitchen shears, knelt and cut all six strings tied to the smoker with almost medic-like precision, then, she removed them and placed three pieces of ham on each plate.

The captain stood and triumphantly offered Marianne a plate. “For you,” she said with a blinding smile.

“Oh, thank you,” Marianne said as she took the plate from her. “Shall we have breakfast at the table?”

“Mhm. You don’t need to ask twice. It’s been a while since we’ve had a proper chat. I’d still love to know what adventures you’ve been up to in the last two years.”

With a sigh, Marianne began walking; Leonie briskly followed behind.

“I wouldn’t say I’ve been on adventures,” Marianne said with a haphazard shrug. “I’ve only been on adventures if you’ll consider working tirelessly on my collection of poems an adventure… Oh, and they’re not finished…! So I’d prefer it if you wouldn’t read them yet.” A sigh. “Regardless, I’m certain you Alliance soldiers have been getting up to far more mischief than I. Hilda’s told me she’s seen more of Fódlan than she’s ever had before.”

“Definitely,” Leonie said with a quick nod. “I’ve been to all sorts of places that I never would have even dreamed of going. It’s funny, that. This war is so awful, and yet, I’ve seen some wonderful places.”

Marianne halted her words for her last three steps, the steps it took for them to finally reach the table. Simultaneously, they pulled their chairs out and sat at the same time. Marianne shuddered at how in sync they seemed to be, but the sound of Leonie clearing her throat caught her attention again.

“Is something wrong, Marianne?” she asked.

“Nothing, nothing,” Marianne answered. “I just thought it was strange that we were moving at the same time. That happens so rarely, so I thought it was a bit strange was all.”

Leonie chuckled softly. “Is it really so strange? We were in the same class for a rather long time. How long was it? Nine or ten months?”

“I believe it was about eleven, actually. It’s funny how time flies so quickly… We’ve grown up, Leonie.”

“I still think both of us have plenty more growing to do.” Leonie pulled the silver napkin containing her set of cutlery towards her; Marianne did the same. Hastily unwrapping her own, she said, “We’re still young. Hell, you’re my age when I first entered Garreg Mach.” 

“I suppose that’s true… I meant more mentally, though. You don’t remind me of that same Leonie that I once knew… I suppose it’s the title, though…”

“I can assure you that I’m not that different. I’m still plenty myself. _You_, though, you’re different for sure. You’re a lot less quiet and you seem more at ease with yourself. I’m not sure if I can recall a time at the academy when you’ve actually smiled around me. You were always frowning.”

Marianne shyly ran her finger along her cheek. “I… suppose so, yes. I’d rather not think about my own misery, honestly, but you’re not the first to say that. Hilda has often told me I seemed happier when it was the two of us back then… I wouldn’t doubt it.”

“That would be natural, though, wouldn’t it? How long have you two known each other now?”

Marianne paused, looking up at the ceiling before she said, “Goddess. About five long years now? It doesn’t feel like that long. I had only met her when I had come to Edmund. It felt like such a short while ago.”

“You were fourteen, right?”

Marianne nodded, slicing her ham into fine pieces as she spoke. “Yes. It had only been days since I moved to Edmund and met my adoptive father. He had insisted we go meet our neighbors. I never would have expected neighbors would mean we went way further to the north of the Alliance. That’s how I met Hilda since Holst was still in Garreg Mach at the time.”

Brushing a loose strand of her hair, Marianne smiled at such a fond memory. She still couldn’t believe that the two of them had met so long ago—it felt as if it was just yesterday. Though, she frowned once she remembered that they had both grown into adults in the middle of a war—and on opposing sides no less.

Clearing her throat, Marianne continued, “I wasn’t expecting that House Goneril would have a daughter of my own age, but _Goddess_, Hilda was friendly. Even friendlier than she is today. She ran off with me and gave me a tour, showed me her room, made me play house with her. Keep in mind, I knew her for about thirty minutes at the time.”

Leonie, who was listening intently, looked down at her food and finally sliced a piece of ham and picked it up with her fork, saying, “You played house at fourteen?” before finally placing it into her mouth.

“I’d play house with her now,” Marianne sighed. “It was fun, but she liked those sorts of things back then.” A small smirk creeping across her face, she paused before continuing, “You know, I think she may like those sorts of things now… I should ask her. Regardless, I was the husband. She told me I was the best husband in the world.”

“Why’s that?”

“Guess.”

“You tended to her every need and did whatever she asked?”

With a shy smile, Marianne nodded. “You know her well… It’s a little embarrassing for me to think about, though. I didn’t have many friends growing up—actually, no, Hilda was my first—so it was hard to adapt. I… didn’t know what friends did, so I just did what she asked… For a while, too. It worked out for the better, though… I have a friend who I can happily call my friend for life…”

“It all worked out then.” 

After she said that, Leonie’s eyes shifted and she bit her lip. She seemed apprehensive about whatever came next, which caught Marianne’s interest. She showed it as she raised an eyebrow, tapping her finger against the table.

“Is everything all right?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’m just—I have something to ask, but I’m sure it’ll be strange or improper of me to.”

Marianne perked up. “Well, now I have to know, don’t I?”

“Yes,” Leonie sighed. “Do you have any bourbon?”

Eyes wide, Marianne tensed at her question. “Excuse me?”

Groaning, Leonie said, “See? This is what I was afraid of…”

The noble’s hands found their way onto her lap and she turned her head to stare at the piece of cloudy sky that peeked from between her window. This situation was somehow even more uncomfortable than being the target of Leonie’s wild accusations of treason; Marianne wondered why that was.

“You’re not drinking again, are you…?” Marianne asked, then paused. “I thought you quit. I know you remembered what happened last time…”

“Ugh, I did,” the captain moaned, nervously running her both sets fingers through the hair that delicately kissed her shoulders. “That’s why. I don’t… it’s for cooking. I don’t really want to be lectured about it. That time—it was a long time ago. Let’s not retread what happened nearly two years ago.”

“I know,” Marianne sighed. “I suppose I’m worried about you is all.”

“You’re worried about me? That’s awfully strange.” A frown took hold of Leonie’s lips and her brow slowly furrowed. “No, that’s just not right.”

“Why’s that?” Marianne asked, right before placing a piece of ham in her mouth.

“Because I accused you of being a traitor to Leicester just last night.”

Marianne’s chewing slowed as her energy went towards her own curious thoughts. She realized that the young captain across the table from her had spoken nothing but the truth—that it was strange that she was worried as much as she had and that, in her heart, she knew it was wrong. But she also felt that it would feel wrong if she didn’t.

There was no doubt that Leonie was an enemy, and one that would probably mercilessly tear her limb from limb had she found out that her true allegiances were to the emperor of a land that most of Fódlan knew as history’s most malignant enemy, but she also saw _Leonie_—the confident, determined Leonie she had grown to know from her time at the officer’s academy.

If there were any weaknesses to exploit, it’d be an asset to the Empire, but her alcoholism, if she was still addicted, didn’t seem like a fair one. Marianne wasn’t sure whether to commend or curse herself for retaining some semblance of morality, so she did neither. Instead, she slowly reached forward and placed her hands atop the captain’s.

“It’s fine,” Marianne whispered. “That was… well, earlier in the morning now. That isn’t going to make me stop caring about you. Yes, I was part of the Black Eagles, but I was part of the Golden Deer for longer. That means we’re not just classmates, but a team as well… As I did years ago, I would still help you with it. I—”

Marianne jerked backward in her chair, more than surprised by the sudden slam against the table and the tactile tension that took hold of their dining room. The sound of their rumbling plates played in concert with the captain’s heavy breathing. Her muscles tensed and she stared at the woman now hovering above her with half-worried, half-concerned eyes.

Leonie, with one final breath, shuddered and took a shaky step back. Trembling hands found their way right in front of her eyes, and through the spaces her fingers created, she saw Marianne’s concerned expression. Peach lips quivered as if wanting to utter an apology—anything—but no words came.

Marianne took action first. “Leonie,” she muttered, “I—”

“No, I’m sorry!” Leonie shouted before whispering again: “I’m sorry…” 

It came over and over in soft whispers.; Marianne wasted no time walking over to the other woman and placing her hand against her back, gently rubbing it in an attempt to soothe her frenzied body and mind. Leonie showed no resistance. She only sighed softly and removed the seal from the letter on the desk—the letter from Adrestia that Marianne had forgotten last night—with ease.

“Here.” Leonie flung her hand back. “Don’t worry about it. I need a second to myself. You forgot this… just… read it.”

“Oh, you didn’t open it before?” Marianne asked.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Leonie replied with complete seriousness. “I’m keeping my promise.”

“Right,” Marianne said as she slowly pulled the letter out from the envelope.

She didn’t dare allow Leonie to see its contents, so scurried back over to her chair and sat. With a sigh, she unfolded it and began to read.

_My dearest, Marianne,_

_Luckily, it would appear I’ve been able to write to you sooner. I speak with complete honesty when I say I miss you so. Life has been more than troublesome for me and you’ve been able to ease my nerves with every letter, and for that, I thank you._

_I hope you are still in good health, though I remain concerned. Your last letter was stained with what looked to be tears. Have you been crying? They were faint, but I could still see them; I wouldn’t doubt it from what you’ve told me. I care about you deeply, so if there is anything on your mind, and if there is any way I can help, please tell me._

_I hope Hilda is in equally good health. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen her. You’ve told me she’s matured, which is good. However, it’s a troublesome situation for the Adrestian army as she’s still no doubt an officer of high importance despite her lowered rank. Her laziness would be an asset, but apparently, her newfound sense of resolve would be something to take into account._

_I understand she’s your childhood friend and your tumultuous emotions. To you, Marianne, I offer my sympathies, but at the end of the day, you shouldn’t forget where your allegiances lie._

_If you choose to spend more time to look after her, I won’t be upset, though. I understand completely. She is your friend—and your closest friend at that—so if you do not wish to hurt her over me at the moment, I can understand that. Just know that, sadly, time is not on our side._

_As for what you’ve told me about Claude wanting you to join the Leicester Alliance, I’d request that you join right away. This is an unbelievable opportunity that we will speak more about at a later time. But I’d ask you don’t even give it a second thought. Join. You’ll have access to a great amount of useful political and military information._

_You are not alone, but things have been difficult for me. Between you and me, I’ve had a talk with Annette that I’ve come to regret and makes me quite upset to think about. I’m ashamed of my actions and I’ve been believing I’ve been losing my sense of self—but it’s likely the weight of the world on my shoulders. And I’ll do my best to carry it._

_I hope you’ll write to me soon. I’m hoping to learn of more developments, but it’s always a pleasure to hear from you as well._

_Hugs and kisses, Greta._

With a vibrant blush overtaking her cheeks once she had finished reading, Marianne stared at the parting words for a few seconds longer, and with each time she reread them, her smile grew brighter. She wasn’t sure if Edelgard was Fódlan’s best actress, but the way she wrote her words made them feel so… real. Marianne knew she would be lying if she said that it didn’t excite her.

The fact that Edelgard enjoyed reading her letters wasn’t new to her, and the ending—_Hugs and kisses_—was rousingly novel. Secretly, she had hoped that it meant the two of them had grown closer—but then that thought spawned another.

_Edelgard has never been so personal in a letter before._

She was never personal. In fact, it was so unlike her Marianne had started to grow worried. Her smile faded and was soon replaced by a telltale frown of their situation; one Leonie capitalized on.

“Is everything okay?” Leonie asked. “Did you have a breakup?”

Flustered, Marianne shook her head. “No, nothing like that…! Don’t worry about it, I’m just worried about my friend.”

“Did something happen?”

Marianne shook her head. “I don’t know and that’s what’s scary. Either way, I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I’m worried about you as well.” Slowly, she snaked her hand forward once more, nervously placing the tips of her fingers atop Leonie’s nails. “Are you all right?”

“Fine,” Leonie said bluntly, quickly pulling her hand back.

Marianne drew her hand back as well, though, her frown only deepened. She watched as a Leonie stood and restlessly stretched, her hands bouncing against her hips as she finished. She donned a smile—a clear attempt to obfuscate the lingering darkness and blind her with shining white teeth.

“Well, I’m stuffed,” Leonie whistled. “I’m happy we got to eat together.”

Marianne blinked. “Oh? But you barely touched your food.”

“Neither did you,” the captain said with a shrug. “It just says that we were having a good time together, which we were, so it’s fine with me. I want to go change and run for a bit. Gotta get in some exercise.”

Marianne opened her lips but found herself unable to build a rebuttal. She sighed instead. “Okay… If that’s what you want. You’ll be home soon, yes? Are you sure everything’s all right?”

With a visible apprehensiveness, Leonie nodded. “Yes, yes, everything is fine. Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing, my mind is racing. I usually get it out of my system by running.”

Leonie took a long pause and stared right into Marianne’s eyes—staring deep into her soul as if she wanted to peer beneath her thoughts. The captain’s lips turned to a frown, and then an expression of complete seriousness.

“Don’t follow me.”

Marianne shuddered.


	9. Chapter 9

**Day 8 of the Guardian Moon, 1181**

It was the third time this week Marianne heard it—the tempestuous thumping at the door that died down after the seventh knock. She sighed softly and put the placed the romance novel she was reading atop her nightstand before hurrying over to the door. When she opened it, she saw the sight that never failed to crush her spirits.

Leonie Pinelli, her classmate—her friend—was always there, looking like a mess. She usually did on nights like these but tonight was worse than usual. Far worse, in fact. Her hair, normally kept short and proper, resembled a bird’s nest with the way it was strewn and tossed about like if caught in a whirlwind. Her face was marred with mud and blood alike. Scrapes and cuts littered her bare arms and legs, but those were far from the worst parts about her appearance. Those could only be the miserable frown that played upon her lips, and teary eyes that timidly scanned her room as if seeing it for the first time. It shattered Marianne’s heart to see her like this.

A sullen frown took hold of Marianne’s lips as Leonie stumbled forward on shaky, bleeding leg—one foot after the other, each step more rickety than the last. Not wanting to waste any more time, Marianne wrapped her arms around the young woman and placed her head atop her shoulder. Once Leonie wrapped her arms around her as well, she sighed and mentally prepared herself for the possibly-explosive situation she was about to place herself into as she dragged Leonie over to her bed, sat her atop it, and herself next to her.

“Lie down,” Marianne commanded. “I’ll take care of you.”

Though there was irresolution in her eyes, Leonie nodded feebly and laid back. Her eyes watched carefully as Marianne scurried about her room, gathering the linen bandages that were scattered about the room along with a washcloth and bucket of water she had filled earlier that day. When she returned, Marianne had gathered so much that the bandages were spilling from her grasp.

Marianne set them aside, knelt, and gently grasped one of Leonie’s legs with her left hand, causing the girl to gasp and groan in pain. Marianne had always hated that sound. The sound of her weakness—her helplessness. It was shrill and grating to the ears. She gulped, steeled herself, meticulously washed the wound, and conjured energy into her right palm, causing it to glow white. Slowly and carefully, she moved it across Leonie’s leg, just like Professor Casagranda had taught her.

“I hope it doesn’t burn too much,” Marianne said softly. “I’m doing my best, but I apologize if I’m still doing a poor job…”

“I-I’m fine,” Leonie slurred. She kicked her legs and Marianne quickly ducked, narrowly avoiding two boots to the face and the possibility of losing her front teeth. “I feel fine! L-Lemme fight!”

“Please calm down, Leonie,” the young noble whispered as she took hold of Leonie’s leg once again. “You’ll end up harming yourself more than you already have. I need you to stay still…”

“There’s no time to waste, Marianne! None! I’ve gotta t-train and be stronger so that no one’s going to be able to beat me… I’ve gotta protect everyone and be the damn best mercenary…”

Marianne knew those words beckoned disaster—the reminder of him that always did. Her tears were like a relentless waterfall, splashing against her cheeks forcefully. Marianne covered her ears at what came next—the screams and wails that more than likely, echoed throughout the upstairs hallway where her dorm was located. Leonie was never a crier—in fact, Marianne hadn’t seen Leonie cry until recently—but when she did, it was as ugly as it was violent

She threw her fists wildly, each punch more ruthless than the last. With each rushing blow, Marianne bobbed her head away and managed to dodge four; the fifth punch came at her nose and drew red from her nostrils.

Marianne cussed under her breath twice—once when she bled, and again when she noticed Leonie had curled into a ball and become a weeping mess on her bed. She was the worst drunk she had ever seen, but she couldn’t fault her for drowning her sorrows in alcohol. She understood how tough of a time it had to have been for her.

“Leonie,” Marianne called softly as she stood and hovered over the bed. “Please… I need you to talk to me…”

“No!” Leonie screamed. “I-I can’t! I hurt you! I-I did… I messed up again!”

“You didn’t.” Marianne sat next to her and placed her hand atop her waist—the only place that wasn’t soiled in any way. “Please, just talk to me… Um, were you training so you could avenge him again…?”

The scream that came could shatter glass. Marianne had her answer.

“You don’t have to work so hard,” Marianne sighed. “And you don’t have to drink after too… Um, that’s what I think… Well,” frustrated, Marianne pursed her lips, “I don’t mean it like that, um, I mean… I think you’re a strong woman, Leonie. I know how tough it is for you now that Captain Jeralt has died, but um, I know you’re stronger than that… So very strong…”

Leonie shuddered and shook her head. “No, no, no! I-I’m not strong enough! I-I know I’m not… I couldn’t stop it! I-I couldn’t…”

“The Black Eagles were out on that mission. Not you… It’s not your fault, Leonie… There was nothing you could do about it. You—!”

A sudden kick landed square in Marianne’s stomach. Wincing, she recoiled and quickly placed her hand over her stomach. When she re-opened her eyes, she saw the visage of a furious Leonie, pitifully stained in the fluids of her own pain.

“Don’t you ever dare say that to me! I could have done something! I would have gotta… I-I refuse to think that I couldn’t have! I… I had to. This is my fault, it’s gotta be… I could’ve told him not to go, I could have gone with him… Something! I-I could have…”

Leonie’s shaky hands reached down to pull her similarly-quivering legs further against her chest as if trying to hide away from the world; Marianne knew she wanted to. She was so strong-willed and courageous in her day to day life but ever since Captain Jeralt had passed away sometimes when the night fell she began to drown her sorrows in alcohol. It hurt to watch.

Whenever she saw her like this, Marianne couldn’t help but feel so helpless. With every word she uttered, she felt more and more useless. Leonie didn’t listen to her—not ever. She knew that talking to her like this kept her from harming herself further, but she knew she never made any real change in her mindset. Never for anybody.

“Marianne,” Leonie slurred in a quiet voice. “You… you look sad… Tell me how I can help… Do I gotta get stronger and protect you too…? C’mon now, don’t be shy.” That thin-lipped smile that only drunks could have pulled at her lips, stretching eerily wide across her face. “Anything you want.”

“I don’t need protecting,” Marianne whispered, turning her head. “I… I just want you to go to bed… So you don’t harm yourself more. I’ll get Professor Casagranda and you can talk to her. I don’t think I’m any good, really…”

Leonie clawed at Marianne’s nightgown with wide eyes. She’d seen that look before—one of absolute need. She’d seen it every time Leonie had come to her like this since every time they talked at this hour, the conversation would unerringly steer this direction as if fate itself willed it. She looked down one final time and saw a drunk, sullen, despairing, and desperate for her. Marianne couldn’t stay.

“Marianne,” Leonie whined. “Please… don’t go…”

“I have to,” Marianne sighed. “I need to get Professor Casagranda so she can help you feel better. I’m not qualified for all of this… I know you want me to say I do—and I’m sorry for being so useless—but I have to do this… For you… Feel free to be cross with me in the morning. That’s completely justified…! I-I can’t do anything right…! I’m sorry!”

Marianne wasted no time bursting out of the room. She couldn’t stay in there any longer—not with her. It wasn’t right to make Leonie rely on _her_ of all people; Marianne wasn’t even sure what she had seen in her. 

With each stumbling step, Marianne criticized herself.

_You’re useless, Marianne. So terribly useless! No one could want you around! You couldn’t even help her. You’re not even used to looking at her face yet; how will you help if you can’t even look at her?! Stupid, stupid, stupid Marianne!_

She didn’t stop. Even after she had hastily explained all of it to Manuela, she just ran off to the stables to sleep in the hay with Dorte. Degrading, perhaps, but it was what beasts like her deserved.

Useless beasts who can’t help their friends. Marianne was disgusted with herself because she knew the words of her sloppily-crafted farewell were only half-true. She just needed to get away because she couldn’t deal with the overwhelming sadness. Of the reminders that she was, indeed, useless.

But no matter how quickly or far she ran, she could never escape herself.

* * *

**Day 12 of the Verdant Rain Moon, 1182**

Watching the clock had seemed to become one of Marianne’s favorite past times. This was the fourth midnight in a row that she had observed the clock strike twelve, and a small smile formed on her lips as she wondered if she was either becoming boring or going crazy.

Though she doubted it was either, it was an amusing thought. She knew the answer to her simple question was that boredom had more than likely taken its toll. One could only write so many poems before their fingers quiver, shake, and beg for another task; the only problem was there were none.

Undoubtedly, the worst part about their getaway home was that it was a getaway for two. Without her father near, Marianne was at a loss of what to do. It hadn’t been the first time he had to leave on business when they were on vacation—in fact, it was pretty much guaranteed—but she’d always had Hilda if that were to be the case, who always stayed with her when he was gone, no matter the circumstances.

Only now, Hilda was a grown woman, and despite her demotion, more than likely working alongside the leader of the Leicester Alliance, governing the region and managing military affairs. Claude and Hilda were stuck together since they had all attended the Officers Academy at Garreg Mach; so much so Marianne swore that she was going to be replaced eventually. Marianne thought it was a miracle she somehow wasn’t.

So badly did Marianne miss Hilda’s late-night ramblings and cuddles that were far too possessive, but she knew it was likely she’d have them again. That fact made those memories bittersweet, but even so, they still pried soft giggles from her.

Leonie had been absent all day as well. Marianne honestly didn’t think it strange. Despite the tension that formed earlier in the morning, she was a high-ranking soldier in the Alliance. She had expected that she’d be needed here and there to round up bandits or do battle with troops from the Kingdom, Empire, or even Almyrans.

She just hadn’t expected her to stay out this long. She’d likely return home stressed; she may not even eat while she was out.

_Maybe I should make her a pie._

She only hoped Leonie wouldn’t accuse her of poisoning it. That was the last thing that she wanted to deal with on this terribly hot, uncomfortable night. Summer had just passed, but even then it was unnaturally hot for this time of year. It was tempting to remove her nightgown—and especially since sweat was starting to drench her ankles—but she knew Leonie could return home any minute.

Growing impatient and closing her eyes, she laid down and tossed and turned in her bed. She needed a second to herself, especially if she was going to commit to making Leonie’s pie later. She had endured twenty seconds of complete darkness before it seemed to grow even hotter.

Marianne opened her eyes, and suddenly, an idea that she felt stupid for not having earlier, popped into her head. She quickly raised her hands against her face and chilled them. The feeling was heavenly. She had done this a couple of times for Hilda at Garreg Mach in the summer after she had learned the spell then, but she had never once thought of doing it for herself—or that it’d feel this good.

Admittedly, that was something she had learned to dislike about herself after Garreg Mach—and especially recently. She felt as if she cared about others too much. Even today, Hilda and Leonie had dominated her thoughts, despite knowing they both were the enemy. She wasn’t sure how to feel about Hilda especially. They’d made so many memories over the years… and while she did think that it’d be easy to discard her, after their last conversation it only became harder to do so.

Marianne stood up and walked over to the window to see if, maybe, Leonie had returned. As fate would have it, she checked at just the right time. Leonie rode in on her horse, but there was something off about her expression that she couldn’t quite place from this distance in the dim light of the lanterns… and the way she held onto her horse was peculiar. Maybe she was injured.

She wasted no time and rushed downstairs to greet her. Surprisingly, she arrived just as Leonie was locking the door behind her, but she seemed to be struggling with the keys. 

_Did she just leave her horse outside? Did she even tie him?_

Figuring her hand was injured, Marianne stepped forward.

“Do you need help?” Marianne asked. “Are you—?”

“I’m fine!” Leonie snapped. “Very fine! Dumb Marianne!”

Marianne froze, both out of fear and out of worry. She had recognized that way of speech before—that _damned_, slurred way of speech. She was drunk, and horribly so.

Her muscles stiff, Marianne stepped back and looked for a quick way of escape. The opened windows tempted her, called out to her with their whispers of the wind, but Marianne couldn’t sprint towards them even if she wanted to. The more she thought of escape, the less she could find it in herself to move.

She chided herself internally, not just for this, but for the sudden regurgitation of memories of Leonie’s glum drunkenness from her time at Garreg Mach. It was as if she was the same Marianne from nearly two years ago. Weak and helpless. She was annoyed with herself, so annoyed that she recklessly took action.

She grasped Leonie’s hands, and the soldier’s eyes widened. A scowl forming on her face, she slapped them away and Marianne recoiled. 

“Don’t touch me,” she spat. “You… you don’t get the damn right to, you filthy cur… Cur!”

Those words stung harder than she’d ever imagined, but she maintained her steadfast resolve. Both hands found their way against her hips and she stared her down. Leonie’s livid expression didn’t waver. In fact, she gritted her teeth and stepped forward.

“What are you staring at, bitch?!” she raged.

Alcohol-breath assaulted her face, searing her eyes and infiltrated her nostrils. Marianne didn’t flinch. She simply rolled her arms and stepped forward as well. Their foreheads were mere centimeters away from one another and Leonie’s eyes bore deeply into hers as if she wanted to pierce them with her gaze.

“We’re going,” Marianne said firmly. “Upstairs. Now. I’m taking you up to our room. I’m not leaving you like this.” 

“You don't—!”

“Now. I’m watching over you. You may hurt yourself.”

“I’m not going to—!”

“I’m not going to back down. No matter how much you lash out at me, you won’t scare me… You’re… my friend, Leonie. I’m not going to leave you here drunk.”

“I’m going to be fine. Now I’m leaving. Don’t blink, you might miss it.”

Leonie spun on her heels, stumbled towards the door, and attempted to open it; it stayed at that—an attempt. No matter how much her shaky hands mishandled the jingling pair of spare keys, no progress was made. Leonie pounded the door in anger.

“Gah! This door is such a stupid bitch!” she shouted.

Leonie raised her first to throw another punch but Marianne swiftly caught it. Leonie angrily grumbled, grinding her teeth with the intensity of a burly metalworker filing iron. The veins in her wrist pulsated like they were about to explode, and even though dread swelled in her throat, Marianne refused to back down.

“Stop. You’ll break my door down. Just calm down and come with me. I’m not leaving you here no matter how much you act out. Do I need to remind you how you broke a windowpane nearly two years ago, you—”

“Shut up!”

Leonie threw another swift punch; this time, she aimed for Marianne’s face. She released her other hand and ducked, barely dodging the blow. Her hand chilled and conjured an icy breeze—it was second nature for it to. She had to pause and stare at Leonie’s face—her miserable, teary-eyed face with teeth clenched like a hound biting down on a piece of meat—before she remembered who was in front of her. She hurriedly lowered her hand.

“J-Just shut up!” Leonie screamed, tears like waves washing against her sand-colored cheeks. “You don’t care about me! You’re just trying to get me alone so you can kill me. Damn Empire dog!”

Another punch barely whiffed her face, visibly weaker than the first. Another quick glance at her face showed that Leonie was hesitant to fight, even though the words she spat were vile and poisonous. Marianne knew that Leonie still remembered who they were. She was Marianne von Edmund and she was Leonie Pinelli—no matter what she thought of their allegiances, true or false, they were still friends, classmates in the Golden Deer. Nothing would ever change that.

Marianne saw no point in refuting Leonie’s claim, it’d just make her angrier. She needed to change her approach. She shot upwards and quickly raised her hands into the air, her lips pulled into a half-forced, half-natural frown.

“I don’t want to fight you,” Marianne said, her voice shaky. “I… I just want to talk to you. You’re _my friend_, Leonie… I just want to talk to you… I’m trying to get you upstairs because I don’t want you to harm yourself… Just please come with me…”

Leonie opened her trembling lips and struggled to find the words. Her hands balled into fists at her sides and her stance stiffened to the point where she looked uncomfortable and coupled with the look of complete disgust on her face, Marianne was certain she was.

A long two seconds passed before Leonie softly whispered, “Fine. I’ll… I’ll come… I… I’ll come…”

_Thank Sothis,_ Marianne thought. _It worked out. I can try to make some progress here._

She stepped forward and gently took Leonie’s hands. They shook within her grasp violently before dying down to a feeble shutter. Slowly, Leonie pulled her eyes up to Marianne’s caring grin and welcoming gaze.

“Trust me,” she whispered softly.

Leonie nodded and with visible reluctance, she said, “Just… Just this once…”

The captain’s gaze fell to the floor and she gripped Marianne’s hand with vigor. Steadily, Marianne led Leonie up the stairs. She was half-surprised that Leonie showed no resistance at all towards her. It was as if she lost all of her characteristic toughness, and when she looked back, she saw that familiar visage of weakness from nearly two years ago. Her eyes begged for her—pleaded for Marianne’s words to be true. In response, she gave a thin smile.

It pained her to see her like that, it always had. This time, though, she promised herself that she wouldn’t run away like she had all those times before. She couldn’t afford to. Not just because she had wanted Leonie’s safety and above all happiness above all else—but one wrong move or statement could cost her her life.

Once they had arrived in the bedroom, Marianne sat Leonie down on the queen-sized bed and sat next to her. Shyly, her hand snaked across her back and pulled her close. Almost instinctively, Leonie rested her head against her shoulder. Marianne turned her head and those pleading eyes were gone, replaced with an expression of complete dread.

“Why…?” Leonie asked in a whisper as if she had been far away. “Goddess, why me…?”

“Hm?”

“Why are you being so kind to me suddenly…? You’re never this kind to me, Marianne… Every single time you ran away from me when… I was like this…” Once again, she began to weep. “You n-never look at me like I’m me when I’m drunk! Yeah, I’m d-drunk! I’m just another washed-up drunk—an easy kill for you, Imperial! S-So why…?! You—!”

“I ran away because I was afraid,” Marianne remarked harshly, putting an end to her drunken rambling. “I’m not the same Marianne as I was back then. You don’t have to trust me—you can think I’m an Empire dog, or Edelgard’s lackey, or whatever else. I don’t care… I’m not just… going to leave you like this. In this state. I care about you.”

_Even though I know I shouldn’t…_

“But… but why?!”

Leonie shot up and pounced; Marianne was powerless against her. Before she knew it, all of her limbs were forcefully pressed against the mattress and Leonie was over her, bearing fangs and piercing her gaze with red, teary eyes. 

“What is wrong with you?! Y-You… You… What’s wrong with you?!”

“A lot is wrong with me if that’s what you wanted me to say.”

“Clearly.”

Leonie reached into her left back pocket and pulled out a penknife. Shakily, she waved it in front of Marianne, and the young noble froze. For someone who begged for death so long ago, the blade looked awfully frightening. It was a strange feeling to her, she was afraid to lose her life—especially since she had only recently found reasons to stay alive. She closed her eyes to avoid the terror of sharp, shining steel.

“You’ve never done this before!” Leonie shouted. “You think you can just run off to the Empire and then try to play me now! You damn idiot! How stupid do you think I am?! Y-You… Do you think I’ve never realized you’ve never done this before?! I have you now!”

Marianne opened her eyes to see the blade dangerously close to her neck. This was it—what were likely her final moments. Her eyes slowly drifted upwards, and even though her eyes were crazed, it was evident that she was still hesitant. She could only hope for the best.

Her lips curled into a diffident smile and she took a shallow breath. “Leonie, please,” she begged. “I know you don’t want to do this… I… I’m sorry I never helped you before in the way that you wanted, but I… I’m trying to do right by that now…”

“I know you’re with the Empire trying to manipulate me. That’s the only reason you’re doing this… I… I saw it…! The letter…! You’re a damn fool if you think I didn’t read it beforehand… Who is Greta?”

“I—”

Leonie slithered the blade closer, barely grazing her neck. It was a miracle that she was still alive. Part of her wanted to cry, to scream out for help, but she knew the moment she did, she’d end up a fresh corpse.

“I’ll ask again,” Leonie repeated. “Who. Is. Greta?”

“My friend in Adrestia,” Marianne whispered. “Greta Feital. Do you remember her? Black Eagles’ Economics class.”

“Vaguely. I can see the face. And she’s part of the Empire?”

“She isn’t. You can check with your scouts. She’s simply a civilian, not even a noble—nothing but a good friend of mine. She’s just been asking me about some simple things. The thing about the letter? The people mentioned? Those are family members… T-They are…”

For it being a half-truth of a story she had rehearsed time and time again, Marianne thought she had done a good job remembering everything in this tense situation. The only issue was maintaining her composure. It was scary to be in this situation—to have someone you once called a friend accusing you of treason, ready to take your life. It hurt to lie like this—but she knew this was the life she had subscribed to.

She was surprised she had remained sane for this long. Not just tonight, but period. She understood that more than anything, she believed in the Crestless, unified Fódlan Edelgard wanted to create, but it was damn hard to be helpless in this position. Those thoughts brought ugly sobs and wails that echoed throughout the whole room.

Marianne didn’t want to die. Not by Leonie’s hands. She didn’t want to lie, but she knew she had to. She knew that the world depended on it. She knew more than anything she had to keep a straight face and answer Leonie’s questions so she didn’t accidentally reveal information, and she just… couldn’t…

“Y-You got what you want!” she screamed. “I know I’m nothing! I know I’m a weak, helpless, awful friend! Now… please! Goddess, please don’t kill me…! I’m begging you! I don’t want to die, Leonie!” Her voice died down to a whisper as she squeezed her eyes shut and said, “I don’t want to die…”

Marianne opened her eyes for what she’d assume to be the final time. She saw Leonie’s quivering lips, her resolve wavering. Her hand trembled and before she could push the blade in deeper, she pelted it out the window and rolled onto the floor with a loud _boom_.

Sniffling, Marianne rolled and looked over the side of the bed, and there Leonie was, curled into a ball and crying ever louder than she was. Marianne didn’t know what to do, so she only did what she could. She hopped off the bed, knelt on the floor, and pulled Leonie close, laying next to her and wrapping her arms around her.

It was all she could fathom doing right now, but it just felt right. Leonie couldn’t reciprocate, she could only cry and scream her worries away. Gently, Marianne patted her on the back. Slowly yet frantically—like the beat of her torpid heart. It was pleasant to finally show her affection like this, like how Leonie had probably wanted so long ago.

It felt like hours, but truthfully, it had only taken fifteen long minutes for the final tear to run down Leonie’s sand-colored cheek. A sigh fell from her lips and through misty eyes, she looked at Marianne’s solemn expression.

“I’m so sorry,” Leonie whispered. She shot up and wrapped her arms around her, holding her tightly. “I’m so, so, so sorry! I… I don’t know what came over me! Oh, Goddess… What have I done…?”

Her voice was painfully hoarse, but her words weren’t as slurred. She was clearly trying her best to focus and Marianne appreciated. Smiling, Marianne wrapped her arms around the soldier as well

“I’m okay now,” Marianne said. “You shouldn’t worry… You… I understand why you felt the way that you did. I know you were scared and, um, that’s okay… It’s okay to be scared… I was scared, too… And it’s okay to be scared… This war is awful…”

“Goddess, it is.” She frowned. “Sorry for, you know, almost killing you… Um, I know you had your reasons for doing what you did. Fighting with Edelgard against the church. But I think I took it a bit far… I was acting like a damned crazed animal. I’m so sorry about that… I…” She closed her eyes. “I’m so ashamed… I can’t—!”

“Leonie!” Marianne grabbed her by the shoulders and dug her fingers into the thick leather of her shoulder pads. “I need you to listen to me. I’m fine now. Yes, I won’t attempt to downplay the fact that you _did_ nearly kill me… I’m not happy about that. I can’t just complain… because I _am_ alive… I’m alive and still breathing. So are you… It’ll… be hard to get over, but I’m not mad. I understand why you did what you did.”

“I almost made myself a murderer is what I did. And by killing one of my friends, no less… That’s not _normal_, Marianne.”

“You thought I committed treason. I’d say that’s plenty enough of a reason to do what you did. Granted, you… you reached a conclusion far more quickly than you should have. But I can’t fault you for that.” 

“This war is making a monster of me,” Leonie lamented. “It’s not even my place to execute traitors or decide who’s what… and I still… I tried to. I disregarded my rank, hurt you! I let my dumb theories cloud my judgment! Everything! I don’t know if I can take it… Keep… doing this. ”

“I don’t mean to pry,” Marianne started, “but if so, why are you fighting?”

“You’re stupid if you think I’m not going to fight,” Leonie stated bluntly. “I want the Empire gone. That’s enough reason for me, and if we can shake hands and make up with the Kingdom army and get Crazy Rhea to stop attacking us, all the better. Leicester and Faerghus will have decent relations. We know they’re responsible for Jeralt’s death. I hate Edelgard and that’s all I really need to press on…” Leonie sighed. “Even… if it isn't easy. I had to do something hard just then—and I’m glad I didn’t. Hope I’ll never have to either. I think I’d lose my sanity and actually become a monster. I almost just did…”

“You’re far from a monster. If anything, that was the most human reaction you could have.” Marianne moved a glowing white thumb to the light cut on her neck and it healed instantly. She sighed softly and said, “I don’t know the right way to word what I want to ask without sounding completely insensitive.”

Leonie rolled her eyes and gently placed a hand atop Marianne’s shoulder. “Just say it.”

“I’ve always wanted to ask this question, but I could never find it in myself to. Especially when you started drinking yourself into a stupor. Just why does Jeralt mean so much to you? Why did you drink today, actually?”

“Oh, goddess. You’re asking me _that?_ That’s quite a story.” A sardonic laugh fell from her lips. “Why don’t we sit on the bed? It’s uncomfortable on the floor.”

Marianne nodded and stood, reaching out a hand that Leonie hastily took. They both sat on the bed and Leonie kicked off her combat boots. Pulling her legs inward, she started.

“Captain Jeralt was like my second dad, but I’m pretty sure that’s obvious. I talk about him openly so much you could be an idiot and come to that conclusion. He’s just done everything for me—taught me everything I needed. You remember where I come from, yeah?”

“Matlock Village.”

Leonie nodded. “That’s right. Matlock in the very south of Leicester. It’s pretty much right next to the Great Bridge of Myrddin. Close to Ordelia territory. I know you popped up out of nowhere, but there were some pretty bad bandit attacks there when I was growing up. Now, we were a pretty small village and Ordelia was relatively poor at the time and they couldn’t offer us much aid. We’d be pillaged, kidnapped, _killed_—all kinds of things. I don’t think I was much older than eleven years old when the current Count Gloucester sent a band of elite mercenaries. You can guess who was amongst them. Thank Sothis for that.”

“Oh. Goddess. Living like that sounds awful.” Marianne frowned as she envisioned all those atrocities Leonie had mentioned. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that. I can’t imagine being a child in that situation. That must’ve been so horrible to live through. I hope your parents are okay.”

“To _survive_ through, Marianne. And as for my parents.” A bitter smile took hold of her lips and her gaze fell to the floor. “My parents were never okay, as far as I’m concerned. They couldn’t handle having a child—I put them in too much debt. My father was a hunter, owned a butchery, a real upstanding guy in our community. However, when my mother birthed me, well. Let’s just say caring for a super sickly kid—we were placed in awful debt.”

The room went silent and Leonie closed her eyes as if recalling everything that had happened in her life. The tension was palpable, and when Marianne turned to glance at her face, she saw nothing but hurt in her expression. A hand found its way atop Leonie’s right shoulder, who sighed in response. Reopening her eyes, she gave a small, bitter smile.

“My mother hated me,” she started. “We were already pretty poor but, well, after constant trips to the village doctor it didn’t get much easier for us. Did I tell you my mother had just divorced a minor noble who left her with nothing? Funny, that. My mom was an orphan who ended up really lucky and then lost everything—including the plush lifestyle she was used to. Every day, she blamed it on me. Every day, everything was my fault. Even if she was just talking to my dad, it was like… I was a burden. When I was seven she couldn’t take it anymore and walked off a cliff.”

“Oh, Sothis.”

“Mhm.”

“I’m sorry, Leonie. I’m… _Goddess_, I’m so sorry. I… can’t imagine that. That’s awful.”

“It’s fine.” Leonie waved her off. “That was long ago—and it’s not my fault. I hate that woman with everything I have. It wasn’t very fair to me to treat me as she did. She was selfish and couldn’t be bothered to look after the child she birthed… I also get it, though. How living like that is rough. I don’t condone it—Goddess, I don’t condone it—but I understand it. Some people… just can’t live like that. My mother was one of those people. My father wasn’t much better after she died either.”

Leonie sighed and continued, “Alcoholism runs in my family. You can guess where it comes from. After a while, he just shut down and acted like I didn’t even exist anymore. That… well, that hurt me worse than my mother’s death, as ashamed as I am to admit it. Bandits killed him when I was ten. I think I shut down too because I didn’t really feel as much as I’d like to when he died. By then I was the village kid who everyone pitied. I had plenty of moms and dads who finally _treated_ me right. I don’t think I could complain too much when I have that. I was never too picky of a kid… especially since Captain Jeralt came the day after.”

“He saved you?”

“More than saved. Taught me everything I know from hunting to fishing to how to ride a horse… to how to kill a man with a lance. And then the Empire, _Edelgard_, took everything from me when she joined up with those lowlifes in black. You know the ones. Hideous white faces, annoying voices, ‘I’m evil, fear me’ ways of speaking.”

“Those Who Slither the Dark,” Marianne said plainly. “I could never forget. They make me horribly uncomfortable…”

“Yeah, those guys. I hate them, but I think that’s a given. They took everything from me,” Leonie spat. “The person that mattered the most. Gone. Just because of them. I don’t care why she did it, but I’m not going to let her end the Alliance. This is my home and I’ll defend this little piece of Fódlan to my dying breath.” Her brows furrowed. “I’m going to be happy when I hang her head from the gates of Enbarr, so don’t blink. You might miss it.”

A shiver ran down Marianne’s spine. She was more than torn—she was shattered, more than she could place into words. Hearing Leonie’s story moved her more than it should. Even though she _wasn’t_ part of the Empire, she was Edelgard’s spy, even if only unofficially. And for the first time ever, she regretted it.

Leonie yawned and stretched, giving Marianne one a quick slap on the back, which shook the young noble out of her thoughts and back to the dreary reality of her life.

“All right, story time’s over. I’m going to shower and head to bed. I’m sorry for breaking down tonight again. It wasn’t very proper of me to do what I did. I hope that you’ll forgive me.” Leonie sighed and under her breath, muttered, “And that I can forgive myself…”

“I forgive you, Leonie. I… I understand. Thank you for telling me what you did… It means the world to me.”

“Oh, gross!” Leonie waved her off. “You’re going to get soft and mushy on me. It’s weird.” Out of nowhere, a small smile pulled at her lips. “But… I suppose it’s nice…”

With one final sigh, Leonie ambled towards the bathroom but stopped the moment her fingers wrapped around the doorknob. She threw her head back to look at Marianne one final time.

“And Marianne,” she started with complete seriousness. “When you asked why I fight? I want the Empire gone… But I need to protect everything dear to me. I won’t let Edelgard ruin everything—take lives that aren’t hers. Not from the people I care about. Not again.”

The door slowly shut behind her as if she was leaving all the dramatic tension of the last hour behind her, leaving Marianne alone to bathe in it. She had no more words; nothing vocal. She couldn’t scream or cry or apologize at the top of her lungs. She only laid in bed—alone with the ticking of the clock.

_What the hell is wrong with me…?_


	10. Chapter 10

The next morning, despite their heart to heart the night before, Marianne and Leonie hardly spoke a word to one another. A simple “Good morning” was good enough for them as they left bed at the same time. They ate together in near silence; the entire time, Marianne’s eyes were glued to Leonie’s.

Leonie raised an eyebrow and asked, “What’s wrong? Is there something on my face?”

Marianne shook her head and answered, “No, not at all.” Her fingers slowly played at the handle of her fork, levering a piece of scrambled eggs that remained. “I was just, well, I was worried.”

“About me?” Leonie blinked. “Don’t be. I’m fine.”

The solemn tone that occupied her words told her that it wasn’t fine, Marianne was more than worried. But in a way, she understood. She, too, wouldn’t describe herself as ‘fine,’ though if Leonie asked her, she’d undeniably say she was.

She knew it was a better idea not to press it than to only agitate the situation further. With a soft sigh, Marianne nodded and pulled her plate towards her. Leonie quickly stood and pushed her chair in.

“Shall I get that for you?” asked Marianne as her eyes fell to Leonie’s empty plate. “I don’t mind doing the dishes this morning if you’re going to be busy again today.”

Leonie looked like an orphan caught stealing as her eyes trailed towards the wooden floor. Hastily and visibly guilty, she shook her head. 

“Marianne, you don’t have to do that,” she wasted no time in saying. “I’m your guest; you’re not my maid. I can clean up after myself, it’s no issue, really. Allow me to do yours as well after everything from last night.” A brief pause and sudden awkward tension beckoned a timid smile upon her lips. “My treat.”

Those words—_my treat_—struck Marianne the wrong way no matter how she attempted to rationalize it. She couldn’t find it in herself to hold what had happened the night prior against Leonie—even though she _knew_ she should have been the most irate woman in Leicester. Back at the Edmund estate she had plenty of peasant servants, she could do without another one—without this one.

“Leonie, it’s fine,” Marianne assured. “How about we just wash our own dishes? That works for both of us, right?”

Donning her best smile, Marianne pulled her plate close and held it carefully in both hands. She stared deeply into her eyes for one second, two, then Leonie accepted defeat.

“All right,” Leonie sighed dolefully, “but I want to go somewhere with you today. It’s not good for you to stay cooped up in this house like this all day. It’s pretty bad for the mind.”

“Is it?” Marianne asked as she pushed in her chair delicately. She brushed a few loose cerulean locks away from her face. “I’ve been doing it for most of my life, actually. I’ve grown rather accustomed to being sedimentary. It allows me time to read.”

“Well, I’m sure _you’re_ used to it. You’re a noble after all. I’m sure you just weren’t allowed to go all over. Your birth parents and then adoptive father later would have kept you pretty close. They didn’t want you to get lost or something.”

The young noble nodded. “You’re correct. My birth parents did keep me pretty close at all times. My adoptive father, though, he always wanted me out of the house. I suppose in a way he succeeded. I would be lying if I said I’ve hadn’t been all over Fódlan. I’ve also been to Kopala once or twice.”

As strange as it was, a small laugh escaped from Marianne’s lips. Once again, it was like they were at Garreg Mach, blissfully sharing anecdotes during their camping adventures in Goneril with their class. It was nice—and the smiles on both of their faces were an unspoken testament to that fact.

“Well, I’m a village girl,” Leonie started proudly. “_You_ can stay put and sit looking pretty as you travel around the world. I need to get out and run wherever I go. Which reminds me, do you need any produce?”

Marianne raised her finger to her chin. “I don’t really think so. Only venison, if anything. And I don’t eat venison often. Why?”

“I was going to go out and hunt. Or fish, if you really needed.” Leonie pushed the rest of her food into the wooden trash bin, turned the tap on, and began to wash her plate as she said, “I figured I may as well—since I have no clue how long I’m going to stay here. I figured I should cover some of the costs for you if I can. Save you a few trips to the market.”

“I’d rather we go to the market together, honestly.” Marianne delicately tapped her fingers along the side of the plate. “It would be nice to shop with someone, I’d admit. My father and I rarely have time to go anymore, since he’s getting busier and busier. I haven’t been to the market with Hilda either with the ongoing war and all.” 

“Oh, I didn’t know you went to the market. I actually didn’t think nobles went to the market, time at Garreg Mach aside. I thought your servants went for you.”

Leonie stepped away and Marianne took her place in front of the sink. She pushed her plate under the already-running tap, grabbed the sponge, and delicately ran it along the plate, a soft sigh escaping her lips.

“They do,” Marianne said. “Or used to, rather. When I was about sixteen my father started to have me go on my own. I remember it—my first time. It was more than frightening, to say the least.” She turned off the tap and carefully set the plate between two ceramic ivory-colored ones. “I was just… never at my best when having to deal with socializing. I still don’t think I’m the most adept at it.”

“You’ll learn,” Leonie said matter-of-factly as she placed her a calloused hand atop a shoulder clothed in silk. “You’ve learned, actually. You’re a lot better now than you were back at Garreg Mach for sure. You’re a completely different Marianne.”

Deciding to stay silent, Marianne looked to the floor and contemplated Leonie’s statement. She had thought so before, wholeheartedly agreed even, but no matter how many times she was reminded of the fact that she had indeed changed, it made her ponder it every time. The way she did today, though, was different.

_Have I really changed that much?_ and _Was I really so weak?_ were questions that she’d frequently ask herself. And the answer was also the same: _Yes._ However, today, the question was different.

_Did I change for the better or for the worse?_

At first, she would have decided that she for the better. She was once an antisocial girl, scared of both herself and the world at large. She was still a beast—and a lowly one at that. But she was a beast with a purpose. She had finally found a reason to live because the life that had once belonged to her wasn’t just hers—it was Edelgard’s as well. She owed her life to her cause. But did she really offer it to her…?

Last night or even the morning before, she could have killed Leonie. That would have undoubtedly given the Empire a large advantage. Claude would grieve, soldiers would lose morale and fall one by one, Leicester would be taken by the Adrestian army. The process couldn’t have been more simple. So why couldn’t she do it?

Her eyes darted over to Leonie. Leonie Pinelli, her classmate—her friend—was there. She was the same person she had always been. Even though a more stern demeanor had fixed itself to her as a product of the war, that illustrious smile that practically said, ‘I'm going to be the best I can’ was prognostic of who she truly was.

“Marianne.”

The young noble blinked once and came back from her the onslaught of her contaminated thoughts. She hadn’t realized it but when Leonie had called her name just now, her lips had curled into a smile. It felt unnatural, like hooks were pulling at the corner of her lips and piercing her flesh to make a mockery of her expression—especially since Leonie’s lips had curled downwards. She was concerned, undoubtedly horribly so.

Another hand found its way on her shoulder and Leonie gently shook her. “Marianne,” the captain called again. “Your eyes are welling up with tears as if you want to cry. Did something happen?”

As much as Marianne wanted to nod, to tell Leonie the whole truth so she could just finally get all the suffering that she had been internalizing off of her chest, she shook her head. 

“I’m fine,” Marianne said, placing a hand against Leonie’s cheek. “You shouldn’t worry about me. I had just been lost in thought was all. I’m honestly fine. You said you wanted to go to the market?”

Leonie gently placed her hand atop Marianne’s and cupped it. Staying silent, she curled her fingers inward, nestling them between the young aristocrat’s. Calloused fingertips shyly brushed against her delicate palms as they stared one another in the eyes. It was comforting, especially when she had seen that Leonie had begun to smile, though whether or not it was out of pity, she couldn’t tell; she wasn’t sure if she truly cared at that moment either.

“I wanted to take you out hunting, actually. But we don’t have to go if you don’t want to.” Leonie sighed. “I know something’s up, I’m not stupid. And I know that you’re keeping whatever it is from me, but that’s probably because you’re dealing with something personal right now. It’s okay to be quiet about it, but you can rely on me if you want or whenever you’re ready. You don’t have to keep it inside all the time; you need to find a middle ground. Or else, it’ll never get better.”

Marianne wasn’t sure what had possessed her at that moment she spontaneously pulled Leonie into a hug. She clung to her as desperately as a timid noble-born child clings to their mother when they’re asked to leave her for their first day of formal tutoring. Leonie returned the hug, holding her just as tightly. Marianne wasn’t sure if she had felt the same way or if she just had a strong grip, but she found it amusing; so amusing that a giggle escaped her lips.

Leonie placed her hand atop Marianne’s head and ruffled her messy hair, pushing loose cerulean strands over well-maintained braids. They broke the hug and both smiled. Even if for just a moment, Marianne forgot about it all.

“That’s good, Marianne,” she said. “You need to smile more. Do you still want to go out? Honestly, I think I’m fine with staying home. We could play a board game if that’s what you’d like. We can always go out tomorrow.”

“No.” Marianne shook her head. “I’ll come. I just need to go shower. Um, thank you, Leonie. For your kind words. They mean a lot to me, honestly.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Leonie said simply. “I’ll prepare the gear. You focus on enjoying your shower.”

Marianne nodded and hurried upstairs to her private bathroom. Once she entered, she closed the door behind her and locked the door. Another sigh escaped her lips before she shed her nightgown and underwear and stepped into the shower.

Before she could even turn on the water, she had noticed herself in the mirror. Her visage was miserable—nothing like the happiness that she had displayed downstairs. Her lips were curled into an ugly frown, her eyes were marred by bags that weighed heavily on her face and dark circles that conquered all sense of beauty her face had retained. She had somehow become even more monstrous than she was last week.

Marianne thought that it was ironic. Her very visage was what she deserved—who she truly was. A beast, and a wild one at that. A beast that couldn’t stay loyal, that felt sympathy to those against her allies. She knew it to be true as well because atop her right breast, there the mark of the beast was. The Crest of the Beast—a symbol of who she truly was.

Alone, she had begun to cry.

* * *

“Are we there yet?” Leonie asked as she squeezed her horse’s reins.

“I’m surprised you’re asking me,” was Marianne’s simple response. Her hands gripping Leonie’s torso tightly, she shrugged haphazardly. “You’re the huntress here.”

“Edmund territory isn’t familiar to me. Too far north. This is actually my first time in the province. So, I don’t know where the hunting grounds are. I was guessing you did. This is _your_ part of Leicester, after all.”

“I… Why would I? I’ve never been hunting before. And I’ve only lived here for roughly five years.” Marianne frowned. “You can’t be implying that we’ve come all this way on horseback and you truly have no idea where you’re going.”

“Of course not,” Leonie retaliated. “I memorized a map before coming here. Granted, it was on short notice, but I’ve been memorizing maps for years. I’m confident that we’re going the right way.” 

Leonie flicked her head to the right and Marianne did the same. They both saw a large stone stanchion overlain in fading azure paint that had started to chip at the bottom. To any Edmund resident, it was a sight that they would know well. The Sapphire Pillar—a post built by Kopalan artisans as a public display of good faith towards the province.

“See,” Leonie remarked with a smile as she looked forward. “Told you I knew where I was going. That’s the Sapphire Pillar, right? We’re only a little while away. Hang tight, Marianne. We’ll be there soon.”

Marianne nodded, sinking her fingers further into the thick leather of the Alliance soldier’s uniform she was wearing, pushing it against her stomach. “Okay, I’ll trust you.”

They rode the rest of the way in complete silence. It had taken them three hours from her house down by the beachside to arrive, and even though she only had to hang onto Leonie, she was completely spent. 

As fond as she was of horses, she was never overly fond of making long trips on horseback. Carriages were fine, but something about how they jerked as they galloped that made Marianne nauseated. She hopped off the horse and swallowed deeply in a feeble attempt to compose herself.

“Don’t like riding horses?” Leonie asked with a small smirk.

Marianne shook her head. “Not for me at all. I understand that riding on horseback is a necessary skill for a noble, but just being on a horse for over two hours makes me bilious. Too much bouncing for me.”

“Unexpected.” Leonie lethargically kicked the horse’s side and it began to trot into the woods; Marianne followed close behind. “I thought you liked horses. I never would have imagined you’d get sick riding them.”

“You really wouldn’t think so. My adoptive father told me so too when we first met, along with Professor Casagranda when she thought it’d be a good idea to attempt to make me a healer on horseback. They were just never for me.”

“Right.” Leonie clicked her tongue at the roof of her mouth. “I’m guessing you don’t like pegasi either?”

“Honestly? Pegasi are fine.” Marianne shrugged. “I genuinely don’t mind riding them granted it’s not too discordant a flight. It’s just something about the roads. Going up and down like that.”

“Well, maybe Claude will have them paved just for you,” Leonie chuckled.

“Gosh, you wish.”

Marianne released a laugh that wasn’t only the spring’s ring but sounded like birdsong too. It was such a menial, commonplace conversation, but she felt at ease—like there was no ongoing war. It felt like they were two friends simply talking—to which, they were, Marianne supposed.

It was still an annoyance, the fact that Leonie could make her wear pretty smiles that lit up the autumn sky with simple words. That in moments like this, they had managed to get along so well. She had known that if Leonie truly had found out about her relationship with Edelgard, she’d be furious—and would waste no time in putting an end to her pitiful, traitorous existence. Wouldn’t she?

Admittedly, something from earlier that morning Leonie had said had stuck with her. _The letter…! You’re a damn fool if you think I didn’t read it beforehand._ Had Leonie truly read the letter? If so, she must’ve seen the part about Hilda’s newfound industriousness, or at least recognized that ‘Annette’ wasn’t a name commonly found in Adrestia—and that she could have been General Annette Fantine Dominic, that ever-so-famous Adrestian general, the youngest in history at nineteen-years-old. And her former schoolmate.

Leonie wasn’t an idiot. Marianne had found it strange that she presumably hadn’t made the connection, or at least looked further into it. 

_What does Leonie know? Why is she keeping it to herself?_

Absentmindedly, her fingers fiddled methodically with the tip of the closed saffron-colored switchblade strapped against her left leg. The Alliance recruit armor she was wearing weighed nearly as heavily as her thoughts. Two years out of combat spent coop up in the Edmund estate and her vacation home had placed her body in an unfamiliar state of decrepitude. She had never been overly-muscly, but she had certainly grown frailer—it was evident from but a glance at her.

“You okay, Marianne?” Leonie asked.

The shock of her sudden question nearly caused the young noble to fling her knife out of the sheathing. She hastily looked at Leonie, then at the sky above, or rather, lack thereof. It was concealed by the vibrant foliage of the forested hunted grounds; that was another surprise.

She must’ve been walking for a while, she hadn’t even noticed the change in lighting. Marianne had never gone to any hunting grounds before, but it was far darker than she had expected. It was almost frightening, not knowing what could attack her.

Marianne turned to Leonie and nodded. “I am. Just a little shocked is all. Is it usually this dark?”

Leonie laughed, “You afraid of the dark?” With a look of mirth on her face, she shook her head. “They’re dark but not this dark. I have respect for hunters who have to hunt here. It’s actually pretty hard to see anything far away, but I think we’ll be just fine.”

Leonie dismounted her steed and pulled her bow from around her torso by the shelf. Pulling an arrow from the quiver, she whistled and began to walk forward, her horse following faithfully behind; Marianne wasn’t about to be left behind, walking hurriedly to catch up to her.

“What are we looking for?” Marianne asked. “Surely, you must have some target in mind.”

“Dunno yet,” was Leonie’s simple answer. “If you’re not hunting for necessity, you generally shoot whatever you can get and cook it later. Doves, squirrels, foxes.”

“Bears?”

“Oh, heavens no. If we see a bear we’re running away.” She paused and shrugged. “Actually, I don’t know. With my marksmanship and your magic, we more than likely may be able to take a bear. We won’t shoot, but if it _does_ notice us we’re all too free to defend ourselves.”

Marianne nodded. She wasn’t particularly afraid of the idea of bears attacking her. She had taken on many a Demonic Beast and even more bandits in her day. After fighting for her life against enemies both stronger and smarter so many times, mere wildlife seemed tame in comparison.

As they walked, the shroud of trees only darkened the environment to the point where Marianne truly struggled to see. Without even thinking, she grabbed Leonie’s hand—and then, it hit her. This darkness, it was perfect for covert assassinations. Even though Leonie’s words from earlier rang in her mind about it not being her right, it was still a possibility to consider.

Suddenly, fear struck her like a large hammer and chilled her bones. She wasted no time in considering her options. There was a knife that she could draw, she could also easily encase her hand in ice if need be. Leonie also had a knife, as well as a bow. If she was quick about it, she’d have an advantage… All she’d need to do is wait and see.

Suddenly, a loud, vicious roar echoed throughout the forest, then another; Marianne nearly froze, herself. It was just their luck that two bears had to be near.

Leonie clutched her hand tightly and tugged her to the right, breaking into a sprint and muttering between closed teeth, “Hold on tight and don’t let go!”

Marianne compiled without a second thought. Together, they ran as quickly as they could into the depths of the forest, oblivious of what had truly waited for them; if anything, it had to be better than the bears. 

It took five minutes of dodging barely-visible trees and stepping over branches rooted in the earth that threatened that acted as nature’s most effective traps before the roars had died down to silence. A sigh of relief fell from Marianne’s lips as she flicked away the sweat dripping from her face.

“Looks like we got away,” Leonie remarked with a tired smile. “That’s good. I wasn’t too sure if we could take too. I’m sure you could have found a way for us to win, though. I wasn’t too worried.”

“You’re saying that as if we weren’t running a mile a minute only a moment ago,” Marianne wheezed. “My poor feet ache so badly…”

“Oh.” Leonie waved her off with a wide grin. “Sorry about that. It’s all the exercise training. They make it way more intense than at the Officer’s Academy. Or,” she frowned, “I guess that’s obvious… We’re training for a war now… I shouldn’t have made it sound so arrogant.”

“It’s fine. I understand. Tragic as it is, it’s the truth. I know you didn’t mean to gloat. Regardless—”

“Marianne,” Leonie whispered as she suddenly grabbed the young noble and pulled behind a moss-coated tree.

The Alliance captain crouched behind it and drew an arrow from her quiver. She peeled behind the tree and then sighed. Leonie closed her left eye and carefully lined the shot, angling it slightly upward, and in one swift motion, she let the arrow fly.

A cry of pain rang throughout the forest. Marianne hadn’t even seen what she had shot at but from the sound alone she could tell it was a deer or elk. Leonie rose and stretched with a confident smile that shone in the darkness.

“That was a lucky shot,” Leonie jubilantly remarked. “I honestly half-expected to miss. He looked like he was going to run away. One sudden move and we could’ve scared him.”

“You noticed all of that in the dark?” Marianne asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I have good eyes. Honestly, I think I’ve started to adjust a bit. I can see clearly enough. Now, let’s him in to the cart and take him home.”

Leonie hurried over to her spoils, Marianne followed with haste. As the young noble bent over, she had seen that her presumption had, indeed, been correct. A deer laid against the mud, an arrow lodged in its throat; Leonie rushed forward and delivered the final blow with one final stab in the throat.

Admittedly, Marianne couldn’t help but mourn it. She had always loved animals, and no matter how she’d grown, she was sure that fact would never change. It was a pity, its death. She crouched and gently pet its head, running her fingers through its fur.

“May his soul rest in peace,” she breathed. 

“You still believe in the afterlife?”

As Marianne stood, she pursed her lips and repeated the question within her mind. Honestly, she hadn’t been sure. She could only shake her head and say, “I don’t know yet. I don’t give those things much thought nowadays.”

“That’s fine,” Leonie answered with a nod. “Nobody has all the answers anyway.” She grabbed the deer’s front legs and lifted it nonchalantly. “Give me a hand?”

With a huff, Marianne lifted its hind legs, and together they carried it over to cart attached to her steed before delicately placing it inside. Once it was secured, with two fingers, Marianne closed its eyes and sighed.

“Are we going to look for anything else?” Marianne asked. 

“Not particularly,” Leonie answered, “but we should if we can. We can sell what we don’t need at the market. Can your heart handle that?”

“I understand hunting is a necessity, Leonie. It just doesn’t bring me great joy to kill animals; it never has. It’s as simple as that, honestly. I’m not about to break down into tears about it.” She paused. “I’ve killed far greater…”

“Right. I just know you’re an animal friend. I didn't mean to sound insensitive or demeaning, honestly. I’m just… not quite sure how to talk to you about this. Hunting, I mean.” She paused and her gaze fell to the ground. “Why did you decide to come with me, knowing you didn’t like hunting?”

Marianne was surprised by how quickly her answer came. 

“Because I wanted to spend time with you. Didn’t matter what I was doing. It’s something that you like, so I decided it was worth it. I haven’t seen you for nearly two years. I wanted to spend time with my friend. Plus, you offered to do what I liked, so it’s only fair that I do the same.”

The moment Marianne finished, Leonie looked Marianne in the eye, who turned her gaze towards the ground with reddened cheeks. It was the honest to the goddess truth, and yet, she was so embarrassed about it—felt so _awful_ about it. Every time she had repeated in her mind that Leonie was an enemy, she found it harder to believe. Even today, when she was sure Leonie could’ve killed her, she didn’t. She was still alive.

Those thoughts were anything but peaceful. In fact, they were the most discordant ones stirring in her mind. For nearly two years, she had reminded herself that if she were to meet anyone from the Golden Deer, they were enemies who’d more than likely ally themselves with the Kingdom—that they were nameless, faceless soldiers who’d die for the ‘glory’ of protecting a flawed world.

Leonie didn’t feel nameless. Leonie didn’t feel faceless. Earlier that morning, she had proven that she was undeniably human—a girl who lost everything trying to pick up the pieces in the only way she knew how. Her friend, who she had known for two years.

Hilda was no different. She was the same Hilda Valentine Goneril she had met five years ago—the same bubbly girl who had dragged her all around and made her play house with her. She still trusted her like she did back then, cried on her shoulder when she was upset like she used to.

It was… hard for her to come to terms with. No matter how she’d reinforce that notion of them being enemies into her brain, it was barely convincing. It was just hard to see—even though she knew it could come back to bite her. She just had trouble seeing it.

A pair of arms wrapped around the young noble’s back that squeezed her tightly, but Marianne wasted no time in returning to gesture, a smile on her lips—a sign of what a disloyal mutt she was.

“You didn’t have to,” Leonie remarked. “You really didn’t have to.”

“I…” Marianne croaked, “I wanted to…”

“Thanks, Marianne.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Leonie.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Day 18 of the Verdant Rain Moon, 1182**

Another book read; another book into the mountain of a pile at her bedside. That pile had become quite disorderly since yesterday but Annette couldn’t bother with it. She had to get through _The Great Attack of 1175_ by this evening. There wasn’t enough time to return them to the library.

Surgeon General Casagranda had stopped by yesterday and ordered her to sleep more, but no matter how she tossed and turned in her bed, she couldn’t find the rest she so desperately needed; she didn’t fancy it anyway. The nightmares had halted three days ago, but Annette didn’t want to risk having them again. They could always return more frightening—more scarily real—than they had been before; she was so afraid of that.

It had been easier for her to come to terms with her situation, though. It was hard to control her anger towards her father, but it was fuel to add to the fires of her ambition. Annette had a job to do, she was Adrestia’s youngest general, and vital part to the success of Edelgard’s conquest. No longer could she allow the Church of Seiros to blind the people of Fódlan—to keep on taking from them. To ruin lives like they did Mother’s. Like her own. Not anymore.

Annette pressed her back against the mahogany bed rest and reached for the final book on her nightstand, but as her fingers touched the cover, a knock against her door came. Before deciding to answer, she looked outside her window. The sun was already retreating, setting the sky ablaze. No one should have needed her at this time, so her initial deduction was that it was an emergency, but she then realized the knocking wouldn’t have been so tranquil if that were the case.

Curiosity pulled her out of her bed and in front of the floor mirror leaning against her wall. She pulled the part of her crimson shirt that was tucked in a pair of matching shorts out and hurried to the door; she wasted no time in opening it either.

She wasn’t particularly surprised by who was on the other side. In fact, she probably should have expected it. Petra was there with a wide grin and a large brown box in her arms that looked to be a delivery from the stamped _Imperial Wyvern Delivery & Co._ proudly displayed on the front.

“Good evening, Annie,” Petra greeted. “I am sorry for having such business these days. Edelgard has been keeping me quite occupied. I rarely have time to check up on you.” Peering over the box, she scanned the room and her gaze was soon fixed to the pile of books by her bedside. “I am seeing you are having much business with reading as well. May I come in?”

“Sure, Petra,” Annette replied, holding the door open for her friend.

Once inside, Petra set the box down gently in a corner, interlocked her fingers, and stretched. Annette closed the door and sat on the messy bed, lapping her legs as she looked at Petra.

“I’m sorry if it’s a bit untidy at the moment,” Annette said as she brushed away a few stray locks from her face. “I’ve been super busy like you said. I haven’t gotten to it yet. I’ll get to it tomorrow.”

“Oh?” Petra frowned. “Are you not supposed to be resting? You had sustained many injuries on our last skirmish. I would be upset if you are still pushing yourself.”

“I’m not—not all that much, anyway. Don’t worry about it. Honestly. It’s just a little light reading. If I can’t do anything physical, the best I can do is keep my mind sharp. I’m a major player in this army. Everyone’s counting on me.”

Petra glanced down at the pile of books and her thin peach lips curled further downward—a testament to her displeasure. Sitting on the bed, Petra turned to Annette, arms folded and lips pursed. “I do not think that it is healthy to be reading so much.” Her eyes fell to the books, then back to Annette. “How many books have you read?”

“Thirty-three,” was Annette’s instant answer. “I’m going for my thirty-fourth this evening. I’m hoping to get through it as quickly as possible so I can tidy up tomorrow. If I don’t it’ll set my whole plan back, and that’ll be a big fiasco because I wanted to make oatmeal cookies for myself the day after—and maybe ask Hubert for some coffee. Then, it’s more reading until Edelgard or someone else needs me.”

“Wait,” Petra paused before continuing, “you stated that you had read _thirty-three books?_ In just the days that you have been in bed?” 

“Mhm,” Annette hummed happily, running her hands through her hair. “I think I got through them pretty quickly. I know about all sorts of military tactics, and Imperial history, and ways to wield different weapons and a whole bunch of other things. I’m pretty proud that I was able to get to it all so quickly.”

“Far too quickly,” Petra remarks with a sigh. “Annette, what is the word in the language of Fódlan that means to be very shocked and surprised? It begins with an ‘a.’”

“Astonished.”

“Yes.” Petra nodded. “I am very… _astonished_… that you have been able to read so many books in such a quick time. However, I am also very concerned because I do not read that many books in a year, much less in fifteen days. You were going… very quickly. I am not too sure if that is very healthy for you to do.” She paused, taking both of Annette’s hands and clutching them tightly. “How long have you been sleeping on a night?”

“Oh, I dunno…” Annette frowned. “It depends, you know? Sometimes it’s eight hours—sometimes five. Maybe three here and there. If it’s one of those nights and I’m not feeling it because everything hurts… I don’t sleep at all…”

Annette donned a clearly faux smile; one she could only hold for a second or two before her true emotions engulfed her visage. Genuine disappointment spread across her face like mud through water. She slowly slumped over, and resting her elbows on her knees, she solemnly rested her chin between her hands.

She wasn’t quite sure what to say at that moment—all manner of speech had escaped her completely. Admittedly, Annette wasn’t quite sure why. She wanted to defend herself—to say something funny and pluck a ripe giggle from Petra—but she had found herself growing fatigued not only physically, but mentally as well. She needed coffee.

It had taken Annette three long seconds to notice the hand on her back, but when she felt it she perked upward and forced a grin once again, turning to the young woman seated next to her with a fragile eagerness.

“I’m fine, Petra,” Annette assured. “You shouldn’t be so worried. I’m getting better! You and I both know that I’ve been through way worse.”

Retaining her concerned, melancholic expression, Petra shook her head. “As your friend, I don’t think I will ever not be worrying about you, Annette. When we talk, you are filling my heart full. You are always so bright and cheerful. It is amazing to be around.” Slowly, her lips curled upward to form a pained smile. “I cannot say that I do not like you greatly. Which is why I cannot be not worrying about you. You are my friend. And my very important friend, too.”

Annette was speechless, so she decided to communicate through actions. She swung her arms around Petra and squeezed her tightly, her fingers tapping gently at her back. She made no attempt to hide her rose-colored cheeks and woozy expression as she pulled away either. With a sigh, she placed both hands atop her shoulders.

“Um, thanks!” As Annette spoke, her voice was distinctly shaky; it didn’t take unnaturally-sharp ears to hear that she was flustered beyond words. “I feel the same way! You’re an important friend to me, too! I just wish I had more to say! Something of substance, at least.”

“Annette.” Petra placed a warm right hand atop her friend’s left. “I am wanting you to speak your mind more than anything else. Like you did on that morning when we met outside of the monastery sixteen days ago. Will you be allowing me a peek into your mind?”

“All right,” Annette sighed. “I give in. I’m sorry, Petra. I’m honestly fine. I’m much better than I was two weeks ago—and I certainly don’t think about Father often. I mean, sure, he’ll cross my mind every now and then and I’ll get down in the dumps about it. I don’t really get mad these days, though. Just sad and lonely—but he’s been gone for most of my life now. I’m a big girl.”

She paused, taking a long minute to rethink her thoughts over and over again. Even though she understood her feelings thoroughly, the words to explain them weren’t so simple. She opened her mouth periodically, her tongue rolling in her dry mouth like a tumbleweed in Ordelia territory in the middle of the Blue Sea Moon until, finally, she found her voice.

“I guess it’s hard for me to sit still, really,” Annette explained, brushing back her hair. “It’s always been that way since I was little. I mean it’s _really, really_ hard for me to sit still. I was a really impulsive kid and it never really died down, I guess. Well, not ‘I guess,’ it’s more like _I know_. I don’t know how to put it into words, I think. I’m really confused about it all, but that’s the gist of it. I just… I don’t know if I can stop.”

“It is fine for you to take your time.”

“I don’t need to take my time,” Annette said while shaking her head. “I took my time already trying to put it into words. I think what I mean to say is I just… don’t know if I can do what you ask. I’ve been trying too hard.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound like you, Annie.” Petra raised an index finger to her chin. “You’re always so confident about these things. I don’t think I’m quite sure I am understanding just yet. I am looking for an answer with hardness, even though it is hurting my head to be figuring it out a bit.”

Petra laughed but Annette shared no such mirth. She stared at Petra with what would have been a stone-faced expression had it not been for her eyes shifting all around the room. Her head felt like it was boiling and about to explode—and without any notice or reason, a thought caught her off-guard.

_Well, maybe your head wouldn’t hurt if you left me alone. Idiot._

Annette nearly audibly gasped at that thought. It was so unlike her to repay kindness with such raw hostility that she had wondered if she was going mad. Maybe she had after watching that soldier die—Selina, she believed her name was, or that skirmish with Ashe, or after her conversation with Edelgard the midnight after. Maybe she had after being in her room for the last sixteen days by her lonesome, only greeted for checkups and left to the torment of mental dissonance. 

Maybe she always had been. She didn’t know. She didn’t like it, though; her thoughts were a nuisance.

“Annette,” Petra called with a distinctly authoritative tone. “Look at me.”

Annette snapped back to reality and realizing her gaze had been fixed to the bed the entire time, she flicked her head upwards, locking eyes with Petra. On instinct, she forced another smile—placing the detritus of her deteriorating energy into it. “Petra! Oh, sorry! I must’ve been in a daze there for a second! What’s up?!” 

Frowning and her tone now softer, Petra said, “I was worried… While you were looking at the bed, your eyes were holding anger. I am not quite sure why—I am not even quite sure if I will ever understand why. But I want to try, Annie. And I will do anything to make sure that I understand. Because I don’t like seeing you like this.”

Even though Annette more than likely knew the answer, she still couldn’t help but ask, “Like what?”

“Miserable. Very miserable.” Petra sighed, wrapping her arms around her friend tightly. This time, Annette didn’t react. “I am not liking it at all. I am not so stupid to have not noticed. Ever since I came back from Brigid two months ago, I have been watching you closely. My friend from before the war does not feel like the same Annette—she is someone else. I suppose I, too, am struggling to put it into words, but it is how I feel… You are not nearly as happy these days—not happy as you used to be. I am feeling like you are sad and cynical and never happy with yourself. Annie, when was the last time you did something just for having fun?”

Annette felt her muscles stiffen. Petra had backed her into a corner and she knew there was no escape. There was no use dancing around it, Annette merely shook her head and with a frown, answered, “I don’t know. It’s probably been a while, huh?”

“That is a big issue.”

“I know…”

“Well, we will be finding a way to fix it.” Gently, Petra placed a hand atop Annette’s right thigh and gave her a caring smile. “Together.”

Even though she knew she should have smiled, Annette could hardly find it in herself to do so. Her emotions were like the tangled poison ivy growing on the side of the old walls on the monastery—dangerous and annoying. She knew that—and she knew a smile could always help a situation like this—but she just couldn’t.

What she gave Petra instead was a simple nod and a soft sigh. Her toes curling inward, she stretched. “Goddess, I’m tired. Talking like this takes a bit out of me. I think I’m a little angry and annoyed, honestly. Even if I’m not showing it right now.”

“Oh?” Petra interlocked their fingers and ran her fingertips along Annette’s white knuckles. “Why’s that, might I ask?”

“Because I’m tired, Petra. It really feels like every time we talk, it’s about this nowadays. Annette is boo hoo sad again about Father, or life, or something else, and you’re here to bring me back up again and make me smile only for me to get sad again because I’m such a broken girl.” Annette lifelessly shook her head. “It’s starting to get irritating to me. I’m sure I’d be shouting so loud that Bernie could hear next door if I really had it in me to, because it really, _really_ bugs me. But, oh well.” She shrugged. “I guess I’m just a broken girl. Don’t know how long I’ve been broken. But I am.”

Annette shut her eyes. She couldn’t handle the world right now. Verbalizing her thoughts brought about a sizzling anger that she couldn’t quite quell no matter how she tried to rationalize her feelings. To her, she was broken. Maybe even irreparable. And that irked her. 

Pressing her teeth together, Annette released a sigh from barely-parted lips. “It’s whatever.” She pulled her hands away and stood. “Mind if I—?”

“Yes.”

Annette blinked, shocked. “But you didn’t even know what I was going to ask.”

“You were going to ask if I minded if you asked me to leave, to which my answer is yes. I am minding that greatly. I only just arrived here and I do not want you to be pushing me out. Not in the state that you are currently in. I would be a bad friend if I did.”

Annoyed as she was, the youngest general of the Imperial army couldn’t help but agree. With a nod, she placed her hands on her hips and sighed before sitting back down next to Petra. Her hand found its way against her back, rubbing small circles against the soft bronze skin there.

“You’re right,” Annette mused solemnly, her gaze falling to the bed before moving back up to Petra. She thought of a conversation topic quickly and let it fly, wanting to do away with the depressing aura of the room for now. “By the way, how is your shoulder?”

Petra lit up and clapped her hands together. “Oh, yes! My shoulder!” Happily, she pulled her hair over her right shoulder with a wide grin. There, a ripe burn scar about four centimeters in diameter lingered, a painful reminder of their skirmish in Varley. “Look! I have received my first real mark of war! Are you liking it?”

Despite Petra’s jovial reaction, she cringed, donning an admittedly weak smile. “It’s… nice?” She blinked and dropped the facade. “Sorry, I’m not really a fan. I guess it’s weird to me—you being so happy, I mean. Most girls from Faerghus would be crying down the walls about getting a wound like that. I know marks are a big thing in Brigid, right? I know you’ve mentioned it to me before, but I think I read it in a book recently.”

“Oh?” Petra blinked. “You have been reading of Brigid?”

“I’ve been reading about everything, honestly,” Annette explained. “I’ve studied Brigid’s culture, warfare, history, et cetera. Not just Brigid, but Dagda and Adrestia, too. Every little thing is useful.”

“Even though I am keeping my stance that pushing yourself so much while injured and needing rest is unhealthy, I can not deny that I am impressed by your attitude to learning about these other places. It always brings me great joy to be hearing—_to hear_—that someone is learning about Brigid.”

“It’s an interesting archipelago for sure—from what I know about, anyway. I really like your way of combat especially. The low, flighty combat stance of soldiers for quicker, more powerful strikes, the way you use the environment and time of day to your advantage, your use of archers mounted atop pegasi and wyverns for an aerial tactical advantage—it’s all quite impressive, really. I think the Adrestian Empire could learn a lot from Brigid, honestly. It’s why I’m so excited to get to my next book.”

Petra’s excitement had been showing from the tint on her cheeks long before she had finished speaking, but only after did a spirited smile reminiscent of the morning sun take hold of her lips. Petra looked as if she was about to burst from the sheer amount of happiness that bubbled within her. How greatly she loved her country was clear to see, and it made Annette smile as well.

“What is that book called?” Petra asked curiously. “I am curious to know if I have read it before.”

“It’s called _The Great Attack of 1175_.” On her knees, Annette hurried over to the book and returned to Petra the same way. Flinging her legs over the end of the bed, she presented the book to her. “Here you go. I don’t know if you read it. I think you may have, though.”

Petra frowned and whispered solemnly, “Yes, I have…”

“Oh.” Annette pulled the book to her chest and pursed her lips. “Is there something in this book you don’t like?”

“It paints the people of Brigid in a way that I do not like,” Petra answered, clutching her fists against her knees. “It was a read that had made me angry. Throughout the entire book, the author portrays the people of Brigid as barbarians that only wanted to conquer Adrestia and take it for themselves. I do not like that explanation. It is very untrue.”

Glancing at the top of the book, Annette said, “Well, this book appears to be written by an ‘Asu Ming.’ The name looks Dagdan. I’m guessing there are still some tensions between your country—or was, anyway?”

“Yes.” Petra nodded. “That’s why I have been doing my best to be speaking well of Shamir. Relations were soured because of the Dagda and Brigid War. Many people of Dagda died in it. In Dagda, those who do battle well are well-known and seen as heroes. They are very popular amongst the people there; many of those warriors died in that war while many warriors of Brigid were fortunate to survive. It did not help that Brigid soon became a vassal of the Empire thereafter. That made many of the people of Dagda quite cross.”

“Okay, right.” Annette placed the book onto the bed and raised a finger. “One question, though. Do the people of Brigid feel the same way about the Dagda? Do they not like them as well?”

“Some. But it is not as much as the hatred that the people of Dagda are having for Brigid.”

“Right. Well, if you don’t mind me asking, how exactly does putting in a good word about Shamir affect Brigid and Dagda’s relations at all. I mean, you told me before that they were improving, right? How would that even happen? Does a princess of Brigid have that much sway to affect a country it has tensions with like that?”

“I think you are misunderstanding what I said.” A dry smile appeared on Petra’s lips. “I am speaking well of Shamir _to the people of Dagda_, not the people of Brigid. Part of the agreement is that once a month I am to go to Dagda to pay to secure the border of Brigid and the Empire. Brigid did have to pay compensation to the Queen there who demanded it to repay for the damages and losses caused by the war. Brigid was powerless to resist.”

“Is that so? I don’t really see that being a deal your grandfather would make. That could really hurt Brigid’s economy if the pay was too high.”

Petra lowered her head and shook it. “It is not a deal my grandfather would make because he did not make it. I was the one who was to sign the contract of an agreement to be giving,” she paused, “well, what would have been around five hundred thousand gold, if we were to give an equivalent to the money of Fódlan, every two months. My grandfather was ill and still grieving over the death of my father when they proposed their conditions angrily. In Brigid, it is customary for the next in line for the throne to sign agreements like that if the current king or queen is unable—it is a sign of trust and to show that they have been taught well about making these decisions. But I remember how they came with such big weapons and how scared I was. I was only ten years old.”

The downward curves of her lips quivered as solemn eyes closed, hiding away from the world. Only tears escaped, trickling down her cheeks. Annette wasted no time in acting. Quickly, she wrapped her arms around the princess of Brigid and held her gently, resting her head atop the same shoulder that bore that ‘mark of war’ that she was so proud of.

“Can you talk?” Annette whispered.

Petra chuckled. “I don’t see why I would not be able to be speaking right now. I am sorry, Annette. I am sorry that you have to see me like this. I am very sad right now and I don’t like it when people see me sad.”

Annette pulled away and folded her arms while still keeping her head against Petra’s shoulder. “You and me both, honestly. It’s annoying when people see you sad. Sometimes you just want to be left alone because you don’t really like it when people are in your space like that. It makes you really mad, I’ll admit. But when people want to help you despite that—despite the tears or even despite the fact that you may get so angry that you shout at them—I think that’s when you learn that you value those people beyond words. And that it’s really important to have a friend like that. You’re a friend like that, Petra. Even today, you’ve shown that you’re that kind of friend when you told me you wouldn’t leave because you wanted to help even if I didn’t like it. You’re that incessant kind of friend, but I’d known damn-well I’d be lying if I wasn’t thankful for you—‘cause I’d probably just sit in bed and read and mope more. Talking to you has made me feel so much better, honestly. So, thank you, Petra. I want to be a friend like that to you, too.”

Annette had never seen Petra cry, but she smile on her lips made the sight worth it. Tears fell freely as Petra stared at her through misty eyes—and then swung her arms around her, holding her close. Annette couldn’t help but smile and pat her back.

“It’s all right,” she whispered. “It’s fine, Petra.”

“I know,” Petra cried, “but I am still so thankful for your words. I wanted to apologize for you seeing me sad, but I am so thankful that you have accepted me.”

“What? There’s nothing to apologize for. I got to know you better if anything. Of course you can share your sorrows with me, Petra. You’re my friend.”

“I know, just…” Petra sighed and wiped her eyes, pulling away from Annette’s grasp. “I didn’t want you to see me upset over this in particular. Over my failings as a ruler.”

“I can’t blame you for what you did when you were young. Even so, I wouldn’t blame you now. You were frightened and I’m guessing you couldn’t get out of that agreement before you became a vassal. Even now, you’re essentially paying them to not attack, right?”

“Yes, but I am not liking that. Hence why I have tried to win their favor.”

“Well,” Annette placed an index finger to her chin. “I’m not used to running a country. I wasn’t even the heir to my noble house before I absconded. I was born with a Crest but so were my cousins, so there was never really any reason for me to be super into all that nobility and ruling stuff. I mean, I had to learn a little—but not as much as my cousins. So I’m not the best at telling you how to rule a country. But why not talk to Edelgard and Ferdinand about it? They’re certainly a lot more suited to know more about it than I do, right? You should tell them your thoughts about it, but also keep it hush-hush to everyone else for now. But I think you guys could figure something out about what would be best to do about it. But I also think that if you’re sticking to this, you should resolve it quickly.”

The Imperial general paused for a second to formulate her thoughts before she continued, “Realistically, Brigid is still a vassal of the Empire, and looking at this situation pragmatically, if Dagda does not join the Empire and keeps taking money from Brigid bi-monthly—and if the very unfortunate outcome of Edelgard being pushed back all the way to _just_ Enbarr were to come to pass, we’d need to borrow from a lot Brigid. That could really topple the economy—which would be an issue for Brigid. It’d be in a whole lot of debt. And if Dagda were to—for some reason—go to war against the Empire while it was being pushed back and somehow managed to grab a hold on Brigid, well, you’d have to decide if you’d die with Edelgard or not.”

Petra opened her lips but Annette raised a hand.

“Don’t answer,” Annette warned. “Don’t think about it right now. I don’t need an answer. I know that that’s a hard thing to decide.” She frowned. “I know that better than anyone here, but I know that we can prevent it, so we don’t have to think about it.”

“I… see…” Petra sighed and placed both of her hands on her knees before standing. “Thank you, Annie.” She placed her hand on her chest and bowed. “I am glad for you as well,” she proudly proclaimed, smiling. “And here I was thinking I would be the one helping you. Yet, you are the one who is helping me run my country with no experience. You really are amazing. I can really see what Edelgard sees in you.”

Annette’s cheeks bloomed pink and in an almost flowery voice, she said, “Oh, come on now.” She waved her hand. “You’re a princess. And despite everything, I still think you’d be a good queen. It’s very clear that you care for your people. Not many rulers throughout history can say they care as much as you do. I think that’s commendable.”

With a soft sigh, Petra hugged Annette and whispered, “Thank you so much. Then let us both be doing our best! You will do your best and getting rest and I will be doing my best for Brigid, too.”

“I don’t think those things are related at all.” Annette giggled. “But it's a promise.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Day 21 of the Verdant Rain Moon, 1182**

It wasn’t a rare occurrence for Annette to be awake at four in the morning, dressed in her white, bunny-strewn pajamas and powder-blue bedroom slippers, sitting at the gazebo with a cup of Sweet Apple Blend tea set in front of her, its tantalizing aroma bringing about one of those gleeful grins of hers. But for Bernadetta to be up as well and completely silent? Immediately strange.

She had only started to scream again as she woke up recently, but Annette hadn’t really paid it much mind. She had gotten a fairly grievous wound on her back just last week, so it was expected that she’d wake up with a scream of pain. Plus, she was sure she’d make a speedy recovery with Surgeon General Casagranda’s help.

Honestly, it was thanks to Bernadetta that she was used to getting up so early. There was always some kind of calamity ensuing within her bedchambers that was sure to wake her up; she really, _really_ hated that—and Bernadetta by extension. But that was back when she didn’t know her as well as she did now.

To Annette, it was almost ironic how despite her initial dislike for her, the two were able to become good friends. She couldn’t even imagine ever holding those negative feelings to such a kind, caring young woman now. She was just too sweet to hate.

* * *

**Day 23 of the Wyvern Moon, 1180**

Screaming. Again. It had long since driven Annette crazy.

Being right next door to Bernadetta for the last six months was hell on earth. It was a phenomenon that a milquetoast like her constantly managed to cause such a racket during the earliest hours in the morning without fail. She hated it—almost as much as how she managed to wake her up every morning _without fail._

She tried to ignore it during the day, she really had; made her best attempt, in fact. But whenever she happened to catch a glimpse of Bernadetta scurrying off somewhere, her eyes spontaneously narrowed—a habit she had formed over the last six months.

Annette sat up on her single bed, rubbing her tired eyes before her gaze went to the desk she had saved up to buy two weeks ago. Educational texts had made a mountain atop it as a result of too many overdue library books that she hadn’t been done with.

_Time for more studying. I’ve got to prepare for class today._

She stood up and hustled over to the desk, grabbed a textbook entitled _Fire Magic: What You Need to Know_, hurried back over to her bed, and sat. She opened the book and continued to read where she left off. She managed to read five pages in a solid minute before another loud scream followed by a crash interrupted her thought process. It had to be Bernadetta. _Again._

_Just what is she doing now?! This early?!_

With a groan, she stood and angrily stepped outside, her bare feet slapping against the wooden floor with a loud _thump_ each step she took, only growing louder until she finally reached the door. She stomped outside like an angry toddler and knocked on Bernadetta’s door, fixing her bunny-strewn pajamas in expectation of having a face to face conversation with Bernadetta; she was a fool to think so.

All movement within Bernadetta’s room ceased for five long seconds before the young woman behind the door cried, “H-Huh?! W-Who is it?!” 

Annette paused for a moment before answering, “Annette Fantine Dominic. I’m the girl who’s next door. Do you remember me?”

“U-Um,” she paused, “yeah! I… I think I remember you. You’re the girl in the Blue Lions class, right? The one with the orange hair in that loop hairstyle.” 

“Yes, that’s me. I’m your neighbor. I need to talk to you a bit.”

“Gah?! W-What do you want…? I haven’t done anything…! I-I swear…”

Annette sighed. “You’ve been waking me up early for the last six months. Today included. I don’t know what’s going on there, but can you please try to stop? I’ve been meaning to talk to you about it for a while now.”

Silence again, coupled with heavy air; followed by a scream. “O-Oh?! Um, I’ve been waking you up every morning?! I’m _really sorry!_I didn’t mean to! I swear! Oh, Bernie, you’ve done it again! She probably hates you! She hates you! _Hates you!_”

“Um, Bernadetta…” Annette knocked on the door lightly, her eyes shifting between the ground and the door. She had begun to feel slightly guilty about causing Bernadetta her current state of dread. “U-Um, I don’t hate you. I just really want to talk about it with you, you know? Like, a way I can make you scream way less… If there’s anything that bugs you. Maybe I can help out… So you’re, um, less noisy?”

Annette struggled to find the right words for the situation. The emotions she wanted to convey and the ones she knew she should feel were vastly different. Cooling a steaming head in seconds was far from an easy task. So she decided to improvise.

_I just need to change the situation,_ Annette thought. _Make it more pleasant for both of us._

“Would you like to have tea, Bernadetta?” Annette asked, donning her best smile even though she knew the girl behind the door had no way of seeing it. “I know it’s still really early in the morning, but it’d probably help you to soothe your nerves a little. I’ll brew whatever your favorite type is and we can sit in the gazebo.”

Her proposal with met with a deafening silence once more; Annette was wondering if Bernadetta was even still conscious behind the door—and if it was her fault if she wasn’t. Annette had a strong urge to release a resounding sigh. This entire was quickly becoming extremely tiring. Temptation beckoned her to kick the door down; she didn’t. Firstly, Ingrid had received detention for doing that a month ago, and secondly, it was far too tired for that.

“O-Okay,” Bernadetta sighed. “U-Um, but I want to make the tea myself! Is that okay…?”

Even though she hadn’t been aware of it, Annette smiled. “Yes, that’s absolutely fine! Um, should I go wait for you? I don’t mind waiting. I just want you to show up.”

“Okay, um, yeah. I’ll be there in thirty minutes. I promise.”

* * *

Tiredly, Annette pulled out her golden pocket watch as she saw Bernadetta carefully approach with two cups of steaming tea right as it struck four with an audible click. Truthfully, she hadn’t expected Bernadetta to be so punctual, but it was definitely a pleasant surprise.

Annette slid the pocket watch back into the pocket of her pajama pants and waved to Bernadetta, who quickened her pace, hurrying over. When she finally arrived, she seated herself opposite to Annette before leaning over the table and placing a cup in front of her.

“Oh, thank you!” Annette said, cheerfully. “I didn’t expect you’d get dressed in full uniform, though. I thought you’d show up in a nightgown. It’s still really early and there’s no need to be so formal. We’re classmates, you know.”

Bernadetta’s eyes fell to her uniform and her lips curled downward. “Oh, um, did I overdress? I’m sorry about that! Really sorry!” Worried eyes flicked upward to greet a pair of lidded sapphires that sparkled in the moonlight; Bernadetta recoiled as if the sheen was too bright. “W-Wait!”

A sense of dread spread across Bernadetta’s face. It was a despair that consumed her entire visage, leaving it as lifeless as a cadaver. Bernadetta peered into Annette’s soul, unmoving; Annette would be lying if she said it hadn’t begun to creep her out. 

Shuddering, Annette averted her gaze, looking off to a patch of grass dancing in the breeze of the early morning. “Uh, Bernadetta. Is everything all right? Bernadetta.”

Annette reached forward and snapped her fingers in front of her. She couldn’t care if it was rude or not, she wanted to know if she had to take her to the infirmary. After all, she had heard the rumors or Bernadetta fainting out of nowhere; with her eyes open at that.

She was both surprised and relieved when Bernadetta had suddenly jerked back to reality, violently, nearly flipping over the top rail before falling forward with just as much momentum, slamming her face onto the desk, the cup of tea teetering for a second before finally stopping. Annette had found that reaction unbelievable—it was really something out of a comic opera. She had heard that Bernadetta was eccentric, but she never could have expected something like that; Annette wasn’t quite sure how to feel about it either.

Annette leaned over the table. “Bernadetta—?”

“I’m fine,” Bernadetta grumbled, cutting her off. “I just…!” Shuddering as she pulled herself back up, and with an expression reminiscent of a frightened kitten, she let out a high shriek. “Are you telling me that you’re not my schoolmate, you’re my _classmate?! What?!_”

Truthfully, Annette hadn’t even realized what she had said, but it was the truth. She _was_ Bernadetta’s classmate now. So, she nodded and donned a wide, friendly grin.

“Yes, that’s right!” Annette said, raising the cup to her lips to take a quick sip of tea before lowering it back to the table. “I actually got accepted into the Black Eagles yesterday evening, actually! I hope I didn’t join at the wrong time. I know you guys have to be training for the Battle of Eagle and Lion and me joining probably messes with your game plan a little, but I’m going to talk to Edelgard tomorrow about it. I’m hoping that you guys can find some use for me! I’m hoping that we could strategize and, um…”

Annette closed her lips tightly and narrowed her eyes. Bernadetta was staring at the sky emptily. _Again._ So, _yet again_, she snapped her fingers in front of her eyes. Nothing. She truly had fainted this time, and with her eyes open, no less. It seemed like the rumors were true.

She was tempted to just shout at Bernadetta, hoping that that could wake her up once again, but she quickly wrote that off as a bad idea. The unpredictable repercussions were just not worth the risk in any shape or form. So she decided there was a simpler answer.

To wait. And wait in silence she did, her gaze shifting between Bernadetta’s unsettling countenance silently, like a mother watching over a sleeping baby. She couldn’t help but feel pity for the young woman opposite to her, staring at the stars in the morning sky with complete hopelessness.

Annette, bored, raised her cup. “To the Black Eagles.”

Raising the glass to her lips, her eyes glanced at Bernadetta’s face. She could feel the silent opposition.

* * *

**Day 21 of the Verdant Rain Moon, 1182**

“What’s with the look?” Bernadetta asked as she lowered the cup of tea down to the saucer in front of her. “I-Is there something in my face?”

Annette shook her head. “No, nothing like that, silly. I’m just thinking is all. I’m remembering the first time we had tea together, actually. You know, when you passed out with your eyes open. That was almost two years ago. I was just thinking about how far you’ve come. You couldn’t even talk to me for days after! You were always almost scurrying off somewhere!”

Annette laughed and Bernadetta joined in, an awkward smile on the mauve-haired girl’s face as she swirled the tea within her cup, her gaze falling to the table as her cheeks reddened. 

“It’s still a bit of an embarrassing memory to me,” Bernadetta muttered. “To think I was so scared of you, too… I can definitely say I’m glad I got to know you better! I-I have no regrets there!”

“Because you love me?” Annette teased.

Her cheeks burning brightly, Bernadetta ran her fingers through her untidy mauve hair. “Well, yes—i-in a very friendly way! And because I don’t think it would have been, um, not very fun to be worried every time I stepped out of my room because we’re neighbors until we graduated!”

Annette only giggled, “I know, I’m just joking around, Bernie. I’m glad that we were able to become friends so easily, too. It really does feel like night and day how we were then versus how we are now. I’m really thankful for that, whatever the reason.”

“Yeah.” Bernadetta brought the cup to her lips and took a small sip before lowering it back down to the saucer. “And thanks for inviting me out to tea. Wait—why did you invite me again? D-Did I do something bad, General?”

“Huh? No, of course not.” Annette shook her head. “I just wanted a bit of a girl-talk is all. We’re friends. Not everything is going to end up being business now. Sometimes I just want to spend time with you.”

“Ah, right.” Bernadetta sighed in relief. “I’m glad, then. I-I was worried I was in trouble! I’ve been seeming to get into a whole bunch of it recently… But I guess that’s just by design of being me, it would seem… I’ve realized that over the years.”

Bernadetta’s lips curled downward and Annette took immediate action, moving to the other side of the gazebo and delicately placing her right hand on her shoulder. As Bernadetta turned to look at her, Annette’s face was already furnished with a sunny smile; Bernadetta bit her lip.

“Hey,” Annette said softly. “You’re fine, Bernie. In fact, I think you’re kind of amazing. I’m sure all the trouble you’ve been getting in is just a coincidence. Even if it wasn’t two years ago, you’ve definitely matured a bit. You’re, like, a whole new Bernadetta! Plus, I haven’t heard about you getting into trouble recently!”

“_You_ haven’t heard about it,” Bernadetta sulked, “but I’ve heard plenty… ‘Bernadetta, you need to stop doing this! Bernadetta, you need to stop doing that!’ It’s… tiring and frightening…”

Raising an eyebrow, Annette asked, “Well, what did you do?”

“I wake everyone up too often,” Benedetta sighed. “With my screaming in the morning… Apparently, it’s getting on everyone’s nerves… And I try to stop, I do! I just can’t!”

“Well, the injury still burns, right? It has to hurt to move around. I mean, it’s been weeks and my face still hurts a bit sometimes… Or, well, everything hurts… But that’s beside the point! I’m sure in less than a week I’ll be better; you will be, too.”

“Hopefully…” Bernadetta clasped her hands and lowered her head. “But, um, it’s not that… That’s not the reason why, if I’m going to be completely honest. I think maybe… I should talk to it about someone, maybe. Um…” Pleading eyes looked up at Annette. “Do you—?”

“I don’t mind,” Annette said, cutting her off. “I’m completely fine with listening. You can tell me anything, Bernie. No matter what. I promise. ‘Cause, what are friends for, you know?”

“Yeah, that’s what friends are for…”

Bernadetta’s lips curled into a small, unsure smile for a passing moment before her gaze fell back to the table. It was evident to Annette that Bernadetta wanted to believe her own words, but was held back by her own relentless doubts. Her hand snaked up her neck and tenderly cupped one of Bernadetta’s pale cheeks and turned her head to face her own.

“It really _is_ fine, Bernie,” Annette reassured. “You can tell me about it. No matter what, I promise that I’ll stick by you and help you through it, okay?”

“All right.” Bernadetta smiled timidly, gently placing a hand over Annette’s and squeezing it. “Sometimes I still believe you’re far too good to me as a friend, Annette…”

“I’d disagree. I think that I could always be a better friend. It’s just something to strive for.” Lowering her head, Annette grinned widely. “But thank you though, Bernadetta. If you really want to break even, let’s call this payment for making everyone’s delicious dishes last week, and for covering for my cooking duty while I was bedbound.”

Bernadetta chuckled. “We’ll break even then.” She paused, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath before letting out a flurry of words that came as quickly as lightning striking at the ground. “There’s just a lot on my mind, um, I don’t really… u-um, I don’t _scream_ from my injury… In fact, I don’t even need crutches anymore! I can walk on my own! Oh, but you could probably tell that, right. I guess I don’t really need to explain.”

“Ah, I see?” Annette scooted away and raised an eyebrow. “So, what is it then?”

“Well, just, do you remember when we went to Varley? You know… when we saw that guy from school again. Ashe, I think his name was…”

At the mention of his name, Annette’s brows furrowed. He had managed to elude her thoughts for the last few days; the moment she heard his name her mood soured. Yet again, did she want to bludgeon his face with her fists—this time, harder than before. He truly deserved it, the damn rat.

Bernadetta snapped her fingers in Annette’s face in an attempt to grab her attention. “Um, Annie?”

She shook her head frantically before settling down and blinking. “Bernie. Did something happen?”

“U-Um, nothing, you were just staring off with murderous intent in your eyes. It’s kind of scary.” She frowned. “Can you please stop it?”

“Oh, um,” she ran her fingers through her hair, “sorry about that. I’m probably just a little tired. I’m fine, really.”

“You sure?” Bernadetta asked with concern in her voice.

Annette nodded. “Promise. Don’t worry about it. Keep talking, don’t worry about me.”

“If you’re sure,” Bernadetta sighed, tapping a finger against the table. Her gaze quickly fell to the ground as she continued, “Well, anyone would just be stupid to know I didn’t grow up there; even stupider to not realize I’m the daughter of Count Varley. I’m going to be a countess one day, you know. And that’s a little scary… but that place is full of bad memories for me. I absolutely hate going back there. I mean, I will for the war! That’s a given! But just… I don’t know, I’ve been having nightmares about my father. That’s why I’m screaming when I wake up. I always have these vivid, awful dreams about him. It’s… well, I know they’re not real, but it’s really frustrating to have them because I always wake up really afraid, I guess.” She sighed. “I don’t know, I’m rambling.”

Annette suddenly felt a strong urge to say, _You too, huh?_ but kept it to herself. Not because she didn’t think Bernadetta wouldn’t understand or because she was embarrassed about it, but she knew that it would be less than appropriate. For once, in a long time, though, she wasn’t quite sure how Bernadetta felt. Her tone portrayed one of annoyance more so than fear, it was a curious case.

Pursing her lips, Annette asked, “And how does that make you feel. Like, really make you feel?”

“I already told you I was annoyed,” Bernadetta murmured. 

“Not scared.”

Bernadetta shook her head. “I’m not scared of my father. H-Honestly, as far as I’m concerned, we’re not even family. So, I’m not too bothered about it.”

Despite her words, she was anxiety’s muse—but she still wore a shining smile as if to brighten her own mood. It was strange, truly. Only a moment ago she claimed she hadn’t been scared, and she didn’t sound so either. But now, her eyes were shifty and her skin was cadaver-pale.

“Bernadetta,” Annette called; the worried girl flung her head upwards immediately, giving her superior the rapt attention she deserved like the good soldier she was. 

“I-Is something wrong, Annette?” Bernadetta squeaked. “Am I doing something weird?”

“Just…” Trailing off, Annette sighed. “Just you look scared now. I’m worried about what’s up. Bernie, you know you can tell me anything, really.”

Bernadetta nodded twice. “I know, I know.”

“Is it something about your father?”

“No, just…” Placing her hand on her forehead, Bernadetta released a loud, exasperated sigh. She shut her eyes tightly as if hiding away from the world. “Well, it’s really, really embarrassing, but, um, I don’t consider him family—because _you’re my family._ And not just you. Edelgard, and Hubert, and Petra, and Dorothea, and Sylvain, and everyone. I never really knew what it was like to have a family, really. Not until I met you all. And I…” Slowly, Bernadetta’s hands fell into her lap, curled into fists. She looked around for a moment, seemingly to ensure that there wasn’t anyone malicious hiding in the shadows, ready to spread her sick secrets like an infectious plague, and with reddened cheeks and wide eyes staring at Anette, she shakily stated, “I was worried, um, that you maybe… didn’t see me like that; that none of you did…”

“Bernie,” Annette sighed softly before pulling Bernadetta into a comforting hug. She stayed silent for a moment, repeating Bernadetta’s words in her head; there was love behind them—a love that quickened the pace of her fast-beating heart. Gently, she patted her back, her lips curled into a sunny smile. “Of course we’re family, and no matter what we’ll _stay_ family. I don’t see why I wouldn’t think of any of you guys like that. At this point, you all are all I’ve got, you know? If I didn’t see you like family I wouldn’t be here, really. I’d probably be back home in Faerghus.”

“Ah, yeah,” Bernadetta tightly held Annette. “I guess that was a little silly of me to not think you thought of me like family… I mean, the proof is that you’re still here, yeah.” For a moment, she smiled, but her eyes widened o But, um, I don’t actually think we’ve talked about it, actually. You being here. How is it?”

Annette pursed her lips. “Well, I can safely say I’ve never expected to be in an army. I also never expected to be a general in an army. And I would have never expected that that army would be the Adrestian Empire, of all things. But I can’t quite say that I’m angry about how things turned out or regret my choice. I _do_ feel sad about how things turned out, I do. But from the moment my father absconded years ago, I knew life was cruel. I have some complaints and doubts, but the more time I spend with you all, the less I can say I genuinely mind being here.” Annette moved back against the bench and smiled softly. “Because, as you said, we’re family. And family… well… family is…” Annette paused, then with a pained smile quietly finished. “Family… is irreplaceable.”

_Family is irreplaceable._

It was a phrase that made her miserable, even though it left her own lips. That’s because it was true. Her tumultuous emotions would be the death of her, she was sure. They’d swallow her up and eat her whole, leaving behind only a husk of a woman—for so long they nearly had. They’d most certainly get her killed on the battlefield if push came to shove.

She had to apologize—to Bernadetta or herself she wasn’t sure—though as the first syllable of ‘sorry’ left her lips, she felt a pair of arms wrapped behind her back and a heart full of love pounding against her chest. Bernadetta had taken action; Annette couldn’t be prouder.

Even though she had been feeling a tornado of both positive and negative emotions, she had been able to salvage a smile from the storm and broken as it was, she wore it with pride. She held the hug for five seconds before pulling away, and Bernadetta gave her a half-comforting, half-serious gaze.

“Annette,” Bernadetta called in an authoritative tone. “I’m… sorry. If what I said made you uncomfortable! Maybe I was inconsiderate with what I said! But I’m not lying, really.” She smiled, grabbing Annette’s hand and squeezing it tightly. “But I really do mean it. It’s up to you who you consider family, and I agree that family is irreplaceable. I shouldn’t have brought up fathers or family—but every word I said to you is true! U-Um, you… you really do mean the world to me, Annette.” She sighed, then smiled. “I love you…”

Those simple words—_I love you_—were enough to make Annette tear up. Bernadetta had struck her right in her heart and made the emotion bleed out. She was able to catch herself before she was reduced to a weeping mess, though, and simply nodded, drying her eyes with an azure thumbnail. 

“I love you, too,” Annette whimpered. “I truly love you, Bernadetta. I love every one of the Black Eagles… I definitely wouldn’t be able to get this far without you guys. I… I really do.”

“In a friendly way, right?” Bernadetta teased with a wide grin; Annette promptly punched her in the shoulder, playfully of course.

“Ass.”

“It was too good to resist.”

She chuckled. “Still an ass, though. But… one of my closest friends, too. I’m glad you come out of your shell when you’re around me, Bernie… That… that still means so much.”

“H-Hey!” Bernadetta blinked. “Don’t get emotional! I… I wouldn’t be able to come out of my shell if it weren’t for you and the others, too… We’re all a team here…! You shouldn’t forget that, Annette.”

“I should be telling _you_ that. I was trying to help you, and it ended up with you helping me! I’m shocked!”

“Oh, um, you’re right, yeah… You did want to help me, but it looks like I ended up helping you instead. Huh.”

“That just means you’ve got a whole lot of willpower, Bernie. Like, you’re one of those people that can fight through anything. You’re strong. Really strong.”

“H-Huh!” Bernadetta blinked twice. “Where did that come from?!”

“Just how I feel about what you did. I’ve observed that for a while now, though. I’ve always noticed that you’re a really strong person. You’re always looking to improve yourself or help someone else out. Hell, thanks for the giant stuffed llama that you made me. When Petra brought it in a big box I was thinking that someone had sent me furniture or something. It was a pleasant surprise. I was thankful for the little note you sent with him, too—about how you were thinking about me. I called him ‘Denley,’ by the way.”

Bernadetta brushed the sides of her hair back and bit her lip. “I’m glad you like him, um, but I disagree… I’m not really sure if I like who I am. Or if I ever have, really. I just… decided recently… that it was time to change! I did say I was trying to be more positive, but I’m not as sure as I’m as strong as you say. I’ve still got a ways to go before I can finally become strong.”

Annette shook her head. “I’d disagree, honestly. I think just… _wanting to be better_ is strength already. So many people live life in complete complacency, never moving forward, never striving for anything. In fact, I’d dare say it’s the majority of people. Many people are alive, not many people live. I think that even though you may think that you’re not at your goal yet, the act of simply taking action is respectable.”

“I… I see.” She nodded. “Yeah, okay, maybe that’s something to be positive about, too! Or try to be, at least. I am strong… I am strong…”

“You are strong,” Annette stated before raising the cup of tea to her lips and setting it onto the table.

“Oh, um, this is out of the blue, I guess, but since I know you’re good with makeup and stuff like that, I’m thinking of changing my hair, though. Or just taking better care of myself better in general. I feel like I look raggedy, honestly. I’m thinking I want nice and sleek hair! Like Edelgard.”

Annette pursed her lips. “I think you could probably get it like that.” Curiously, she raised a hand to feel Bernadetta’s unbrushed locks. “Yeah, you could probably definitely get it to a similar texture. A little known fact about Edelgard is that she takes _pretty_ good care of her hair. You’d be better off asking her for tips over me, though.”

“A-Ah…” Bernadetta smiled nervously. “W-Well, you see…”

“You can do it,” Annette assured, placing her hand atop one of Bernadetta’s shoulders. “I know you can. She’s the same old Edelgard, emperor or not. Just think of her as that dorky seventeen-year-old that we went to school with. She hasn’t really changed that much.”

“All right, yeah, um… I’ll give that a shot.” She smiled. “She’s just the same old Edelgard, the way you’re the same old Annette, right?”

Annette chuckled. “All right, maybe I was exaggerating a little bit. I’d like to think we’ve changed, even if it’s ever-so-slightly, and grown into women rather than stayed girls. I mean, Edelgard is twenty now. It’s still kind of hard to believe we’ve known each other for nearly two and a half years.”

“Yeah, um, it’s a little crazy once you think about it. Time really does fly, huh? Speaking of time flying, I remember when you used to dance, too. I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen you dance, actually. It had to be about sometime midway through last year, I think.”

Annette pursed her lips and folded her arms. Even she was having trouble recalling when the last time she had truly danced some silly routine she had made up was, much less dancing with poise and grace both on the battlefield and on stage. Back at Garreg Mach, she had won the White Heron Cup and had the privilege of being able to train to be a professional dancer. That was nearly two years ago now, Annette knew she had to have been getting rusty by now.

Part of her was even convinced that her ability to combine both dance and combat was part of what had landed the position of general, but she had never inquired about it. Certainly, though, it was a skill that Annette knew she shouldn’t let go to waste. But honestly, recently she hadn’t felt like dancing—she hadn’t felt like singing either. She hadn’t done either in at least six months.

That was most certainly worrying. What was happening to her? Had she finally gone bitter? Honestly, she probably had. She most certainly had changed in some way for sure. Two years ago, she was certainly high on life—a normal girl going to school and making friends. That life was no had passed long ago. She was now someone completely different. A grown woman with a militia behind her, and one against her country of origin at that.

Maybe it would do some good for her to reconnect with that side of her that she had discarded. She had honestly wanted it back. Bernadetta was trying to change herself for the better, Annette didn’t see why she couldn’t as well. Maybe it’d make her a bit happier, even.

“Um, you’re right I haven’t danced in a while,” Annette stated. “But, honestly? I haven’t really felt like dancing. Just stress about the war, personal affairs, mental health—you know the drill. But hearing someone say it out loud really makes me feel like I’ve been putting it off—amongst a lot of other things, actually. I think when I heal completely I should work through a routine or two, maybe even choreograph my own. I remember when I used to use my dance moves in combat before I started to focus on a more orthodox way of fighting… It could be something that’s worth trying again, I think. I just didn’t want to take any chances during this war—but maybe I can test it out in a skirmish with bandits or two.”

“As long as you stay safe,” Bernadetta hugged her gently, “I’m happy…”

“I promise I’ll stay safe, Bernie. You can count on it.”

“Oh!” Bernadetta, upon remembering something, checked her pocket watch and blinked. “Shoot! I have some errands to run this morning. I nearly forgot I was on cooking duty with Petra today! Oh, um, sorry to cut this conversation short!”

“It’s no problem, really.” Annette smiled. “We didn’t quite get through the issue of those nightmares, but I don’t think I’m worried about it. I know you could get through it if you try hard enough. I have faith. Plus, Surgeon General Casagranda knows more about that stuff than me, anyhow. We’ll talk about it next we have time if you want to. Otherwise, I’m perfectly happy with the pleasant little conversation that we had.”

Bernadetta only smiled and gave a thumbs-up as she ran off. “Will do! I’ll update you on how it goes!”

Annette was pleased with how their outing went, she certainly had to invite Bernadetta for tea again. Though, as she saw Bernadetta leave in the direction of the dining hall, there was only one question on her mind.

_She realizes she’s still wearing her nightgown, right?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 𝓐𝓾𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓻'𝓼 𝓝𝓸𝓽𝓮:
> 
> Sorry for the super late upload. I had been struggling to write this chapter a whole bunch. I thought it'd be fun to get it up for Christmas, though. So here you go!
> 
> Merry Christmas, everyone! Wishing everyone and their families a happy holidays!


	13. Chapter 13

**Day 21 of the Verdant Rain Moon, 1182**

“Don’t move so much,” Marianne whispered; the world turning atop her featherbed stopped—and toned arms wrapped around her frame, fingers shamelessly malingering on the fabric of her crimson satin nightgown. A testament to their closeness.

“I won’t,” Leonie sleepily muttered in a quiet voice, her hot breath against Marianne’s neck. “Now you stay still, too.”

“I wasn’t even going to move in the first place.” Marianne sighed, shaking her head. “I never would have thought you’d like to cuddle this much.”

Leonie’s right eye shot open and with reddened cheeks, the captain huffed and her lips into an aggressive pout. “I don’t see you complaining about it.”

“I’m not,” Marianne said, smiling awkwardly as her eyes closed. Her hands snaked around the captain’s back, pulling her chin against her right shoulder. Marianne’s fingers moved through Leonie’s hair seamlessly with the intent to return some type of order to her morning-made bird’s nest. “Now stay still.”

Leonie obeyed the command—she had no reason not to. Closing her eyes, her lips parted but no words left them. Only a soft sigh of submission—shallow and warm against Marianne’s neck; the young noble shivered at the sensation.

Marianne knew it was right to allow Leonie this comfortable morning, but it still felt so wrong. Those conflicting feelings stalled her muscles and brought about inaction. Leonie was soft and warm, her bosom pressed against hers was comforting. Was it really okay to hold someone who could kill her at any moment in such a manner? 

In her small vacation home, the comfort of her books, poems, and Leonie was all she had. Leonie _was_ the world—she had earned that title. But the world turns, and turns, and turns, never stagnant. Not _her_ world, just the world. And if Leonie ever truly realized that she had written one more letter to Edelgard, she was sure it would be a dagger turning inside of her chest.

“Happy birthday, Leonie,” Marianne whispered.

“Oh! You remembered?” Letting go of the young woman in her arms, Leonie sat up and blinked, visibly bewildered. Nervous fingers grazed Marianne’s hair, the sides of both of their lips arcing upward ever-so-slightly into smiles wholly different in their tenors.

Marianne analyzed Leonie’s face like she had done so many times in the last eleven days, completely effortlessly. It was like second nature for her to discern her emotions now. It was shocking, but the Leonie in bed with her now and the Leonie from the Officer’s Academy were essentially the same person, longer hair aside. A gentle cub who feigned the ferocity of a lioness.

“I don’t think you’d forgive me if I had forgotten,” Marianne chuckled dryly. 

Leonie smiled. “I wouldn’t have. Thank you.”

With a soft sigh, Marianne pulled away from Leonie’s weakening grasp with a soft smile, sitting up on the bed and patting out the creases on the bottom of her nightgown. She paused for a moment, considering her words laboriously—this proposal could be her demise.

Marianne bit the side of her jaw before saying, “Then get dressed. I want to take you somewhere.”

No words were spoken afterward. Leonie only replied with a simple nod as she stood and made her way to the bathroom, but not before stopping to lightly place her hand atop Marianne’s right shoulder. On the soldier’s lips lingered a summery smile—the unspoken show of her trust and faith in her.

Marianne smiled back; the sides of her lips crinkled as she barely showed teeth.

* * *

“Are we there yet?”

Leonie’s question was met with a dismissive wave as Marianne’s left hand sailed across a verso in the middle of her pocket-sized beryl poem book. Her eyes flicked upwards for only a moment to see an impatient Leonie, tapping her foot against the wooden flooring of the extravagant coach, leaning against its iron body.

“We’ll be there soon,” Marianne stated, her eyes focused on the pages rather than the inpatient soldier. “I don’t know how long we’ve been traveling, but I’m sure we’ll be there soon.”

“We’ve been traveling for an hour and thirty minutes,” Leonie sighed.

Marianne’s eyes raised for the page ever so slightly so that Leonie was in her view, as restless as ever. “You’ve really been timing it?”

“Counting it, actually,” Leonie admitted with a slight roll of her eyes. “Had I known traveling to the Edmund estate would take so long I would have brought a book or something.”

With a soft sigh, Marianne marked the page with a ribbon-strewn cerulean bookmark and closed the book. Had it not been for her mind still brimming with excitable ideas, all of her focus would have been on Leonie. It was always difficult for Marianne to quiet that inner voice that compelled her to continue writing whenever she had paused for even the simplest things—but she had learned to govern both her thoughts and ideas at the same time fairly well.

A pale right index-finger tapped the leather-shielded cover once every second—a method of pacing herself. Counting kept her busy enough; she could focus on doing that while she listened—and the ideas usually came spilling back after she was finished anyway.

Marianne straightened her back against iron, made clear visual contact without hesitation, and offered a smile that brought some light to a face still plagued by dark shadows that were slowly starting to disappear thanks to better sleeping habits. She could thank Leonie for that, the assertive woman.

“I’m here to listen,” Marianne stated absentmindedly, replaying Leonie’s words in her head before nodding. Her lips curled downward, then pursed. “Actually, wait—you’ve seriously been counting?”

“That and looking out of the window. I do it when I’m bored. Counting, that is. It helps give me peace of mind, or just something to focus on. I’m really good at it, too.” She smiled. “Like, for instance, did you know it’s actually been an hour and _thirty-four minutes._ And it’s gonna be an hour thirty-five in the next sixteen seconds. I do it when we’re on long marches or I’m camping by myself. Did I never tell you that?”

Marianne blinked twice, amazed. “I’m… really impressed, but, um, I don’t think you’ve ever brought it up before. We’ve never really had a conversation about counting.”

“I don’t think we’ve talked much before you were working as Professor Casagranda’s assistant in the infirmary,” Leonie laughed. “We had some fun times in there for sure, if you know what I mean. Two gals, one covered in mud and dirt, bleeding profusely. I know I used to give Professor Casagranda quite the scare when I’d walk in, seemingly breathing my last.”

Marianne shook her head. She could never forget the many times Leonie hobbled through the infirmary door with all manner of injuries, drunk or not; they only got worse after Jeralt died. What were clearly amusing memories for Leonie were unpleasant for Marianne, but she smiled anyhow, for Leonie’s enjoyment of them.

“I’m surprised you remember those days so fondly,” Marianne sighed. “You caused me a lot of trouble, you know. I swear Professor Casagranda and I wasted half of the infirmary’s supplies on you alone. And with Caspar, Raphael, and Catherine around… well, it was impressive. A frightening thing to stomach, but impressive.”

Leonie waved her hand, blowing air through the sides of thinned lips. “I remember them fondly because I still do the same thing, Marianne. I have my own troops to command now. I take plenty of blows for my men. I try to keep as many of them alive as possible. Of course, the Alliance doesn’t have a healer as amazing as you, but we have some pretty damn good ones. They take good care of me, too, so I can’t really complain.”

Part of Marianne wanted to roll her eyes. This was certainly the same old Leonie if she was still coming back from battle and training all bruised and battered. But that was the nature of war—and there was something about taking blows for your soldiers that Marianne found admirable. And annoying at the same time.

She couldn’t quite explain that vehement feeling of indignation. But perhaps it was more like distress, honestly. She had prepared for Leonie to die at her hands so many times—but they had a bond now. She was still… prepared for it if the time came. Possibly. She was sure she could guilt herself into it, though. All she needed to do was call herself a disloyal mutt over and over again and she’d be able to deal with the guilt later, she was sure—that always worked.

She hadn’t, however, figured out what would happen if Leonie fell at the hands of someone else. She supposed she could live if it was a soldier from the Adrestian Empire—one more for a better world, she supposed. She grit her teeth—that thought was painful. It was… fine… but dreadful. She didn’t want Leonie to die—but if it really _was_ for Fódlan’s future, she’d be another casualty of this unfair world. Not the Empire.

More blood that would stain Rhea’s hands. That sly Rhea, hiding the secrets of how the world really was and lying to the masses. That was why Edelgard had to hurry up with securing victory over the Kingdom and Alliance as quickly as possible. If only she could risk another letter… She wasn’t sure if she could.

Hilda’s words from earlier replayed in her mind: _It’s okay, Marianne. These things happen in war._

Hilda was right—things like that _do_ happen in war. She thanked Hilda in her mind for reminding her. It was at that moment she had realized that she had stopped tapping her finger. Without hesitation, she continued.

_Tap, tap, tap._

“Marianne,” Leonie called, slowly raising an eyebrow. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Marianne answered immediately, donning her smile once again. “Why would you think I’m not?”

“You just looked really pale. Is something the matter?”

Shaking her head, Marianne waved her off. “No, I’m fine, really. Don’t worry about me.”

Leonie dug into the pocket of her trousers, pulling out one single gold coin. She began to deftly twirl it between slender fingers and spin them atop calloused fingertips, her eyes on Marianne the entire time. In an instant, the coin rapidly spun in the air; Marianne caught it just in time.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Leonie asked with a wry grin. 

Marianne’s gaze changed from the shiny coin in her palms to the soldier, and blinking, she asked, “Are you bribing me?”

“More like paying you,” Leonie stated matter-of-factly. “I want you to know you could tell me anything. Because we’re friends, Marianne.”

Marianne tossed the coin back, frowning. As it landed right in the palm of Leonie’s right hand, she declared, “Which is exactly why you don’t need to pay me. I’d just tell you when I’m ready if it was anything to worry about. To which there’s nothing. Don’t worry, Leonie. I was just a bit lost in thought there.” 

“All right, if you say so—but don’t be afraid to tell me if anything’s wrong. It’s what I’m here for, you know. To look after you.”

Leonie emphasized her point with a smile that so easily captured joy and confidence. Once upon a time, Marianne would have felt compelled to smile with her—to wear the mask of feigned joy, so to speak. But ironically enough, it was due to their time together that she didn’t feel comfortable enough that she didn’t feel she needed to force herself to.

But she did anyway, naturally, for only a moment—before it evolved into a giggle. “Thank you, Leonie. I understand that. But truly, don’t worry about me. I’ll be okay.” She paused, ceasing her tapping. “But can I ask you a question?”

Leonie nodded. “Of course, go ahead.”

“Where do you think Professor Casagranda is now? I haven’t heard anything about her in a while.”

It was a lie. Of course, Edelgard had written all about how Professor Casagranda had become a renowned general within the Imperial Army, despite the fact that she was still a drunken mess often. Not as often that when she was going to school. That would have been ludicrous; Marianne swore it was every other day that Professor Casagranda used to be sprawled out on the infirmary beds, her breath reeking of alcohol that only made her sorrows resurface and spew from her lips in the form bitter, hateful words. But often enough, nonetheless.

Those memories of being an assistant in the infirmary at Garreg Mach were bittersweet to her. Bitter because Manuela slung insults like stones—usually towards the men she had been seeing at the time. But those intoxicated rants sometimes resulted in useful life advice at times.

_Snap, snap._

Marianne blinked three times at the sound of Leonie snapping her fingers and found that she had begun to slouch. She pushed her back against the coach once again and cleared her throat. 

“Lost in thought again?” Leonie asked. “I noticed that you started to space out again.”

“Sorry,” Marianne apologized softly.

“That’s been happening a lot lately. Are you sure everything is all right?”

Frantically, Marianne nodded. “Yes, I’m fine. I just have a lot of thoughts when I write. I’m sorry for worrying you.”

“I just…” Leonie paused, pursing her lips for a moment for saying, “I guess I’m just worried. You seem a little nervous about something. Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“No, no!” Marianne shook her head. “I guess I’m just a little off today. I’m going to try my best to focus.” Her index finger began playing a slow, monotonous tune on the cover of the book once again. “Continue.”

“Right, as I was about to say,” Leonie started, “it’s actually Surgeon General Casagranda now. Apparently she’s one of the higher-ranking generals within the Imperial Army—working right beside Edelgard, no less. Lovely, right?”

“Oh, I see… And how does that make you feel, Leonie?”

Leonie actually took a long pause and her lips slowly curled downward, forming a wide frown. However, it didn’t take long for her teeth to grit and her expression to sour into one of scorn and malice. But once it softened again, Marianne has already known what Leonie’s answer was going to be. “I don’t know.”

“Do you want to talk about how you feel?” Marianne asked.

“Not really,” Leonie murmured. She paused again, but when she opened her mouth again, she spoke in a clearer, more confident tone. “It feels like a betrayal, Marianne. That woman looked after me—taught me for a whole year. We had a genuine bond. She knew how much Captain Jeralt meant to me… So to follow Edelgard. It hurt to see it happen. It hurts to see her work so hard for her when she could be in the Alliance fighting with us. Her own students.”

Marianne paused for a moment, contemplating her response carefully. “But… you have to remember, she was an opera star in the Empire. She’s from Enbarr. I think… it’s not all that outlandish to believe that she’d fight for her own country. The church and Faerghus _are_ at war with it… At the end of the day, that is her home. I can’t blame her for wanting to defend her friends back home.” She raised her left arm and flicked her index finger upward in a manner reminiscent of her old professor. “Had you truly had to turn on us for Leicester, would you? To defend the people in your village if it meant killing us?”

Leonie raised a finger and opened her mouth as if she wanted to object, however she clearly couldn’t reason out her thoughts as quickly as she’d like. Slightly, her tongue rose, then fell, then rose again—for two long seconds under her lips closed and curled into a frown.

“I don’t know,” Leonie sighed. “It’s confusing. But don’t tell me I don’t have the right to not be mad. I do. And I’m going to keep being mad. Because I have the right to be mad. I still believe that out of the good of her heart she should have stayed fought with the Alliance and not those Imperial dogs. I just… I thought she valued us more.”

“Maybe looking at it logically she wanted to help Edelgard conquer to end the war quickly so that we’re not hurt. Maybe she considered the fact that despite Leicester getting attacked from both the Kingdom and Empire, we’re still at relative peace between the two considering that even though we’re the weakest nation, we face attacks from Almyra far more than the other two which have been handled with relative ease so far, and that Adrestia and Faerghus are _constantly_ fighting.”

“There’s no way she could figure all of that out before she joined. I would appreciate if you stopped making excuses for her. I’ll believe that when I hear it from her mouth if you don’t mind.”

“I’m not making excuses,” Marianne said, shaking her head. “I’m just looking at it rationally, but believe what you must. I’m not here to speak for her, because I truly have no clue what Professor Casagranda was thinking with her choice to join the Empire. You’d need to ask her.”

“I will,” Leonie stated confidently, but her voice died down to a soft murmur. “Right before I kill her…”

Marianne heard her clearly, but she didn’t dare question it. One glance at Leonie’s face was enough to descry the regret and pain in her visage. She was hurt—terribly hurt. So hurt the young noble could swear she saw tears beginning to well up in her eyes.

Leonie sneezed. Or rather, faked a sneeze from what Marianne could tell—allowing herself a quick opportunity to wipe her eyes in the left sleeve of her apricot-colored undershirt. The young noble finally stopped tapping and set her book aside, placing her hands on her knees.

“This conversation is stupid,” Leonie remarked. “Let’s talk about something else. The tapping thing, why do you do it? I haven’t really heard you do it before. This is the first time.”

“It is?” Marianne asked surprised. “Oh, um, I’m shocked. I’ve been doing it since I was… fifteen. Maybe I didn’t do it as much at Garreg Mach… at least around people. And I suppose we’ve been talking so often since you’ve been living with me. But it’s a method that helps me keep my thoughts in check when I have too many ideas. It’s helpful for me to pace my thoughts. It’s helpful when talking and writing.”

“Oh, yeah, your poem book.” A small smile seized her lips. “Tell me about it. What are you writing about now? I’m curious.”

“You’ll be able to read them when they’re published…” Marianne sighed softly. “I’m sure it would be quite disappointing to read them now when it’s unfinished.”

“You have a mind for business like your father,” Leonie remarked with a chuckle.

“Oh, don’t say that…” Marianne pressed her fingers together. “You’re making me feel guilty.”

“It’s fine,” Leonie assured. “It was more of a compliment anyhow. Even if you are charging me, your very good friend.”

Marianne shrugged and smiled coyly. “I _do_ want to make my own money on the side. At least this way I can ensure some sales.”

“And to ensure that I’ll buy that poem book of yours, why don’t you at least tell me what your current work-in-progress is entitled?”

The young noble sighed and the fingers of her left hand found their way in her cerulean hair. “All right, I submit,” she chuckled. “It’s called _The Girl with the Red Hair._”

“Oh, that sounds cool! And who is this girl with the red hair? What inspired you to write that piece?”

“Just… I got the idea recently. I like the image of it.”

“Well,” Leonie placed her elbow against the body of the coach, “what’s it about if you don’t mind me asking?”

“It’s about a reckless girl who has red hair that everyone notices. She’s always getting herself into trouble, but she’s really driven and goal-focused. Sometimes to a fault.”

Leonie bit her lip and looked up at Marianne with curious eyes. “And how does it end?”

Marianne clicked her tongue at the roof of her mouth. “I don’t know yet.”

The coach suddenly stopped and as Marianne peered through them she could see their final destination.

_Home sweet home._


	14. Chapter 14

Marianne giggled with glee as she held Leonie’s hand and hurriedly led along the slab-paved pathway to her adoptive father’s gargantuan manor. It was everything a gallant nobleman would own in a romance novel. A mosaic of roses and multi-colored flowerets burnished the estate, complemented by light birdsong in the gentle autumn wind, mighty oak trees, resembling soldiers falling in line to protect Edmund’s treasury. They could never compare to its true protector, though.

Blustering barking echoed on the win, startling a jump out of Leonie. Her reaction plucked a low, nearly inaudible chuckle from Marianne.

“Afraid of dogs?” the young noble joked.

In response, Leonie placed her hands on her hips and rolled her eyes. “Of course not. What kind of a mercenary would I be if I were afraid of dogs?”

A black and white Aegir Hound named Donovan—rushed at both of them from behind the estate with breakneck speed. While Marianne crouched to the ground to welcome the pooch with open arms, Leonie stumbled back and fell to the ground, drawing the iron sword on her hip and anxiously waggling it almost as speedily as Donovan waggled his stubby tail.

Despite her plight, Donovan paid Leonie no mind, jumping right into Marianne’s arms instead, having his hug immediately returned. She stroked his back gently, happy to see him again, a small smile on her lips as she savored this moment together. They were just a girl and her dog—no war would ever change that.

For a brief moment, Marianne's gaze went to Leonie, still clumsily on her rump, her eyes wide with fear. Another low chuckle escaped the young noble, who nodded as she offered Leonie her full attention.

“Are you sure you’re not afraid of dogs?” Marianne asked with a giggle.

“O-Only big ones,” Leonie shamefully admitted. “Just the big ones, though! I think small and cute ones are okay!”

“He doesn’t bite. He’s actually really friendly.”

“He could!” Leonie blurted out before sighing softly and shaking her head. “Look, Marianne. I’m sure your guard dog is very nice and lovely. But he scares the ever-loving crap out of me. Now, can you please help me up?”

With a small nod, Marianne pat Donovan twice with a twinkling palm—causing him to release a happy whine in response—set him down, grabbed Leonie’s hand, and pulled as hard as she could. Once Leonie was back on her feet, she dusted off her bottom and quickly stepped away from the dog.

“So… big dogs,” Marianne chuckled. 

“H-Hey! Quit it!” Leonie snapped.

“Sorry.” the young noble shook her head, “It’s just so funny to me. I always thought of you as this… strong mercenary who feared nothing. Who was so strong and powerful… I’m just a little surprised that you’d have a fear like large dogs.”

“As much as I’d love to say that strong people have things they’re afraid of. I’m not so sure if that’s always the case. I once used to think that everyone experienced fear, no matter who, but I don’t know. There are people like Captain Jeralt who seemed fearless. I want to attain that, but I don’t know. I’m probably just rambling.”

“I don’t think you are. But personally, I—”

Before she could even react, Leonie had tackled her to the ground. Marianne gasped for air, but it was thick grey smoke filled her lungs instead. Barks echoed in the air, but as Marianne looked around, Donovan was gone. She couldn’t worry about it now, though; she had to trust he’d be okay. Marianne knew her dog, he could handle himself.

Coughing and wheezing, the noble rolled away from Leonie and onto her back, allowing her the view of the ashen brume obfuscating the sky. She looked to the left, where a low flame was consuming the grass her adoptive father worked so hard to maintain. To the right—the same thing. She winced, just now beginning to feel the stinging pain on the underside of her chin. Clenching her teeth, she brushed the spot with her thumb to then bring it before her eyes. The crimson on her thumb seemed to drown out the greys of this fiery world.

Leonie—she needed to check up on her! Marianne hurriedly scrambled to her knees and crawled over to her friend. Leonie was face down on a slab of stone, her arms laid out in front of her. Marianne placed her hands on her back and shook her gently.

“Leonie, Leonie!” she called. “You have to get up, please!”

Leonie’s response was a simple groan. She dragged her arms along the grass and pushed herself back up, ending in a sitting position with her legs crossed. She raised a hand to her bleeding face and brushed it with her fingers, passing multiple purplish spots on her nose and cheeks.

“Shit!” Leonie stood and hysterically examined their surroundings; Marianne did the same. “It’s an ambush! They took us by surprise, Marianne!”

“W-Well, yes! I can see that! But who took us by surprise?!”

“The Imperial Army, probably!” As Leonie tapped her feet, she shook her head. “That doesn’t matter now. We need a plan if we don’t want to die here,” Leonie reached for the place on her hip where her sword would be but drew nothing. “Damn! I must’ve tossed my sword! Ugh!”

“What will we do now?!” Marianne asked—accidentally drawing in a deep breath of smoke that forced her to cough.

Leonie reached into her pockets, pulled out a spiked steel knuckle out of each, and slid them on, giving Marianne a shrug in response before spinning her right wrist. “I mean, _I’m_ going to beat the ever-loving shit out of them. You can cast a wind spell and clear me a path.”

_Does she always keep those on her?_

She wanted to raise that question, but this wasn’t the time. Here and now mattered—action above all else. So looking right at Leonie, she shook her head.

“I-I don’t know any wind spells,” she admitted. “I’ve never learned any. We’ll have to make up another plan because that one won’t work.”

Leonie released her irritation in a loud, resounding sigh. “Well, Miss Strategist, what do you suggest we do?”

“Well,” Marianne pursed her lips and quieted her voice. “We don’t have much time—but I think that since we’re still here, it’s likely that our enemies could believe we’re dead. I’m not sure if they heard us yet, but we should talk quietly. Sprint quickly and lightly. We should take them by surprise.” 

Marianne’s eyes went down to a flame next to her and she leaned towards it slightly, letting it catch onto the bottom of her teal shirt dress. The flame caught the bottom of her dress, only to be hastily extinguished by an icy draft from the palm of her hand. She grabbed the charred part of her dress with both hands and pulled in opposite directions as forcefully as she could.

The cloth flitted from her fingers, revealing the bottom half of pale thighs. Glaring into the smoke, she gently slapped her cheeks.

_I can do this, I can do this._

Marianne took one step back, took a deep breath, and pushed her hands forward. A small glacier formed in front of her and two opposing forces battled—fire and ice. First came sizzling and steam; second, water that cleared them an unorthodox path. It wasn’t the most practical of tactics, but they didn’t have time for much else.

“Go,” Marianne breathed.

Leonie nodded and charged forward, leaving Marianne to follow, more than glad that she was wearing flats today. Marianne silently fired off Blizzard spells every so often, forming melting, steaming glacier after melting, steaming glacier. Luckily, they found their adversary before the noblewoman had gotten tired.

A person in black robes covering their entire body, decorated with white and red highlights and tassels. Familiar attire to both of them, the apparel of Those Who Slither in the Dark. Marianne glanced at Leonie the second that she noticed. She looked as dead as a corpse, yet her silent rage colored her face red.

“Hey,” Marianne whispered, tapping Leonie on the shoulder. “Cool it… We need to take them by surprise. Their back is to us, grab them, and when I capitalize, you throw.”

Leonie grumbled but ultimately nodded, rushing toward the enemy and grabbing them by the stomach from behind. Marianne darted forward and hopped into the air, pressing her fight foot against their back and vaulting off of it, she spun, kicking on their temple with her left. Once she hopped off, grunting, Leonie performed a suplex. 

They screamed—a male scream, alerting his allies, no doubt. Marianne rushed over to him, determined to silence him permanently. She sat on his stomach, placed a hand on each side of his face, and pushed electricity through her palms. His head shook in her grasp and he kept screaming—she needed to end this quickly.

She pushed herself, ramping up the voltage, almost double the amount from what she could feel. The mild numbness she usually felt in her head when she cast this spell, Thoron, had evolved into a full-blown headache. Despite that, she didn’t stop. She felt her stomach churn. She didn’t stop. She didn’t stop until he stopped moving entirely.

The faint smell of charred flesh and fabric permeated the smoky air. Marianne grunted, panting heavily as she feebly stood up, placing both of her hands on her head. She and Leonie locked eyes—Leonie was pallid.

“Marianne,” Leonie exhaled.

Marianne knelt, grabbed the burnt mask, and ripped it off. Whites, greys, purples, and blacks colored his shocked visage. It was a horrific composition, depicting a desperate execution in self-defense. Marianne blinked; feeling numb.

It had been nearly two years since she had taken life for the last time, but doing it again—it still felt effortless. She looked down at her victim once again. That white skin was so unlike hers, and these people were not only soldiers but had killed hundreds—possibly thousands—of innocents while they were at school. This was justified. 

She stood up, allowing Leonie to lean over and spit on the face of the corpse.

“Burn until we meet again,” she bit. “Cur.”

The soldier gave Marianne a soft smile—but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. The noble didn’t understand, but she didn’t waste time to question it. Their enemies were likely still at large, and Marianne had begun to see more orange than grey.

“Leonie, we need to run!” she whisper-shouted. “We can’t focus on combat right now! We’re going to die if we don’t get out of here!”

“Then stop talking and run!” Leonie yelled, forgetting her volume.

With extreme force, Leonie squeezed the noble’s wrist, tugged and ran. Stumbling along, Marianne rapidly fired Blizzard after Blizzard, clearing them a path to maneuver through. They were lucky enough to be able to escape the ignited lawn and found their way out onto the road. However, two more soldiers, likely mages from their robes, remained, looking on.

The duo caught the soldiers’ attention immediately, and they both turned to face them. Leonie narrowed her eyes and took a fighting stance, hopping on her toes and raising her fists right below her chin. 

“I’ll cover you,” Marianne whispered as she extended both of her arms and placed both palms right next to one another.

The soldiers did the same, but Marianne wasted no time in rushing forward, a large Ward spell on her left palm. Two fireballs flew towards her but dissipated in the Ward. Immediately, she cast Thoron—knocking one of them to the ground with arrow-like lightning that struck them right in the face.

“Leonie!” she shouted.

Running behind her, Leonie yelled, “Got it!”

She dodged a spinning fireball by an orange hair, jumping to the right before picking up the pace. She was right in front of him, fist raised—the blow was to be deadly. She barely missed as they fell to the ground, collapsing face-first on the pavement.

An arrow was lodged in the back of their neck, crimson splashed onto the shaft. A similarly-robed figure approached them, an iron bow in hand with two arrows drawn. The figure let them fly and they struck the person Marianne had knocked down in the neck and back; it was when she had examined the color of the fletcher she had a realization—green and pink, painted at that. She smiled.

The roar of wyverns resounded throughout the air, and looking up, Marianne saw twelve with people in yellow robes riding them—Alliance mages, no doubt. They landed in front of the flaming lawn in seconds, dismounted, and lined up next to one another an arm’s length apart. The mages clasped their hands and raised them above their heads, and above them, a fusillade of icicles descended onto the flaming lawn like cannonballs.

Their steam hit Marianne’s face in a manner reminiscent of the hot springs back at Garreg Mach. Though this turned out to be anything but a relaxing trip. The steam diffused slowly, and when Marianne could finally see, she tried stepping forward, but a hand on her shoulder stopped her.

“Are you guys all right?”

Marianne recognized the voice immediately. Her lips curled into a small smile, and fearlessly, she raised her right hand atop the gloved one lingering atop her shoulder.

“I’m fine, Ignatz,” Marianne sighed. “You were really impressive.”

With his other hand, Ignatz grabbed his mask and pulled it off with haste. His short chartreuse underneath had resembled tumbled beach kelp after an overnight storm and he was drowned in sweat. He blinked rapidly and reached into the breast pocket of his outfit, pulling out his famous pair of round eyeglasses—still as clean as ever.

“Thank you, Marianne,” Ignatz said with a small, awkward laugh. “It wasn’t anything special, though. I’m glad that you and Leonie are safe above all else.”

Marianne turned her head slightly. “Thank you, Ignatz. I—”

“Aw, what the hell, Ignatz?” Leonie blurted out, and Marianne looked over to see her kicking one of the dead body’s legs, staring down at it. She didn’t notice it at first, but her skin was paler than usual and her expression breathed of an unease that was completely contrary to her lackadaisical tone. “I totally had that guy. That was my kill.”

“You should just be grateful that I saved your life.” He let go of Marianne’s shoulder and walked over to her to face her. “I’ve been tracking those guys for a week now. I’ll admit, I hadn’t expected to see slitherers in Alliance territory, though. And when I saw them heading for Edmund, I couldn’t help but worry because I knew you and Marianne were there… There was actually a whole bunch of them, and well, you know how that turned out…”

Marianne found it comical how his small rant was accompanied by many idiosyncratic hand gestures—same old Ignatz as well. And to make a shot like that without his glasses, he had become extremely competent. That was something she’d certainly have to watch out for in the future. Leonie, on the other hand, just scoffed at him and placed her hands on her hips.

“Hey, stop with the nerding out and exposition.” She kicked the body one final time, flipping it over onto its stomach. She raised one finger—her right middle finger. “Firstly, Marianne and I are a deadly duo and nobody or nothing can stop us, even on our worst day.” Marianne chuckled and Leonie raised her index next. “Secondly, there’s something that you were supposed to tell me that you haven’t yet.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that you’re unstoppable at all,” Ignatz said, shaking his head. “The lawn was on fire and you had no means of escape. I will admit, though, you were extremely lucky to have Marianne with you and thankfully I found you, thank the goddess for that. We don’t know how things would have gone if I hadn’t.”

“I know, I know.” Leonie threw her hands up in the air in defeat. “Goddess, Ignatz. I’m giving you shit. My dad’s been dead for twelve years. I don’t need you playing that role. Let me be happy.”

“You don’t need to be so aggressive,” Ignatz sighed. “But look… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you upset.” His lips curled into a slight frown, he unzipped one of his pants pockets and pulled out a small caramel horse with a biscuit mane and tail attached to a silver keychain. “This is for you… um, happy twenty-second…”

Leonie blinked, extending her hands to take the keychain away from him. She examined it closely, her eyes. “This looks just like Morgen. This… is for me?”

“It is your birthday,” he said. “Of course it’s for you. You didn’t think I would forget, did you?”

Leonie didn’t waste any time in stepping forward and slapping her arms around Ignatz, clinging to him like how the sick cling to life. Her eyes squeezed shut, and in a soft voice, she said, “Thank you so much…” in a soft, composed voice.

Ignatz froze at first but soon returned the hug, patting her back with a small smile. “You’re welcome.”

Marianne looked on, grinning as well. There was something about the scene that had made her feel like a warm, comfortable blanket had been wrapped around her on a Sunday morning. Maybe it was because Leonie was happy; she certainly deserved it after today. Being attacked on her birthday like this - it had to be the worst birthday ever. She… _was_ glad that she was okay, but she couldn’t help but feel guilty about the day’s events as well. This whole thing was her fault.

“Marianne,” she heard Leonie call, “why so glum?”

The young noble blinked, shaking her head to snap herself out of her funk. Her fingers instinctively moved to the sides of her lips. Noticing that she had been frowning this whole time, she pulled them upwards with her middle finger and thumb. That would do.

“I’m not,” Marianne said. “Don’t worry.”

“Are you sure?” Leonie pointed to the side of her own lips. “What was the frown about then?”

“I…” She paused. “I just feel like I ruined your birthday. Dragging you out here was so silly… I nearly got both of us killed. That’s not a very good birthday. So, I’m so sorry…”

Leonie pursed her lips. “Hey.” She stepped away from Ignatz and towards Marianne. She just looked at her, not moving not speaking, just staring at her. Marianne stared right back but found herself being consumed by a sea of orange. Her gaze was as powerful as rocking waves during a storm, but as soon as she was about to pull away, Leonie placed her hand on her shoulder. “Look at me.”

“I’ve been looking at you this entire time,” Marianne said.

“You’ve been looking but not seeing,” Leonie corrected. “Only seeing what you wanted to see. Listen. I’m really happy that you brought me here. I mean, yeah, I didn’t get to live like a lavish noble for a day, but I had a pretty cool fight with you, and we haven’t done that in years. And we got a pretty fun ride on a fancy coach. Ignatz is right, Marianne. We got out alive. That’s something that we should be grateful for. By the way, someone should check if the _maids and butlers_ got out alive.” The soldier pointedly coughed.

She threw a glance back to Ignatz who saluted and with a raise of his hand, the Alliance soldiers followed him as he marched towards the Edmund estate to investigate it. They were like soldier ants in the way they moved—so in sync and orderly. And Ignatz was their leader. He had grown so much.

Repeating Leonie’s words in her head, though, Marianne didn’t wholly agree with her statement—after all, she _did_ bring this upon her—but she still managed a smile. The sentiment mattered to her. Despite everything, had enjoyed their time together… The danger and turmoil, the disagreement in the coach. The trip was still fun. That was something to celebrate.

She still felt guilty, but her smile turned genuine. She nodded, and even though she wasn’t confident in her words, she said, “I suppose so… Thank you, Leonie. But I don’t think it’s safe here. U-Um, I’d like to go to Derdriu with you… I don’t want this to keep happening in my territory. I know I was reluctant at first, but... seeing you all working so hard. How you’ve improved. I don’t want to be left behind. Um, I’m not sure if I will be an Alliance soldier, but allow me to help out in any way I can. I’ll be there to heal you if you get hurt.”

Wide-eyed, Leonie retracted her hand and gazed at Marianne with a blank stare.

“You… _you_ want to go to Derdriu and help out the Leicester Alliance?” she asked. “You’re serious?”

“I’m serious,” Marianne said, wearing a small smile. “I don’t want this to happen to anyone else. I want to help protect people, and well, even though I’ve been apprehensive about this… I think it’s time that I _do_ help you out.”

“I know you didn’t want to help, but I always… thought you didn’t want to fight the Empire—your old class. You’re really okay with that?”

“Of course not.” Marianne shook her head. “But I want to be useful to the Alliance. They’ve been so useful to me. You’ve not only saved my residence, but you’ve helped saved me. You’re right… we _are_ a dangerous duo… and I think that’s something to protect.”

The noble hoped that it was enough to convince her, but just in case it wasn’t, she lowered her head and donned a look of helplessness. She was sure that Leonie could tell that it was a fabricated mood upon her visage—and the response she had received was exactly as she expected.

“Aw, don’t give me that look.” She lightly punched her in the shoulder. “Ass. Don’t get me started. You know that I’m here to protect you already and I agree it’s not safe here.” She wrapped her arms around the noble. “And thank you, Marianne. Of course I’ll take you to Claude. If you’re _sure_ about this.”

“I’m sure.”

“Then I’ll see what I can do.”

A loud bark came from behind them and Leonie hopped away from Marianne’s grasp, nearly falling once again. Donovan had come from behind them, happily wagging his tail. He had small burns all over his body, but nothing too serious. Marianne released out a sigh of relief. She had faith that he’d be okay, but seeing it confirmed right in front of her eyes, it was rewarding.

She knelt and pulled him into her arms and held him close, running her fingers along his back. She looked at Leonie and smiled, tilting her head slightly. She got the message, cautiously leaning down to extend her hand. It hovered at first, and she passed a nervous glance at Marianne, who responded with a nod. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, she patted his back.

“You’re… a resilient mutt aren’t you…?” she grumbled.

“He’s a good boy,” Marianne giggled.

“He is…” Slowly, her lips curled into a smile as she continued to pat him—a nervous smile, but a smile nonetheless. “Hey, Marianne…?”

The noble cocked her head. “Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

“Yeah, thanks.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Day 21 of the Verdant Rain Moon, 1182**

Annette moves her right foot forward in one motion, sliding it across the training hall’s smooth, tiled floor. She pulled her weight forward with her toes and extended her arms lifting her left leg. She toppled backward.

The fall felt slow like she was a leaf gliding in the spring breeze, but the pain that came when she slammed against the cold hard floor was instant. Annette clutched her head and cursed through gritted teeth. But even though it hurt, she wasted no time in picking herself back up and attempting to go through the routine again.

* * *

**Day 11 of the Ethereal Moon, 1180**

Annette found it challenging to move in sync with the music she was replaying in her mind. She couldn’t help but wonder how it was when full-time dancers practiced—was it easy for them? It probably was… and maybe she just wasn’t cut out for this.

She had begged Professor Byleth to allow her to represent her class for the nearing White Heron Cup, but she was anything but ready. No matter how many times she danced in her room well into the dead of night, or even until dawn, or had her professor help her, she couldn’t get the moves right.

Annette let out a loud groan as she slumped to the floor. She let out a loud yawn before picking herself up and starting again. It was probably getting close to midnight, but she couldn’t yet afford to stop. If she even wanted _a chance_ at winning, she’d have to double her efforts and practice until dawn. She repeated that notion in her head over and over again—_I have to stay up, I have to work harder_—in an attempt to prepare herself as best as she could for another night of tireless work.

She started by sliding her right foot forward but overextending. She wobbled, throwing her arms out in an attempt to balance herself. She toppled to the ground; it was the third time in the last hour or so. As the pain rushed through her body, she bit her bottom lip to suppress a scream and slammed her fist against the ground.

Gritting her teeth, Annette shook her head. She usually wasn’t a quitter, but with so little time left, she was wondering if she could really do this… Before she knew it, two weeks of frustration manifested as tears and weak sobs that she tried to hold back in fear of alerting the guards outside the training hall; she was sure she’d die of embarrassment if they saw her in such a pitiful state. The monastery guards loved to talk.

She wanted to pick herself back up immediately, but her body felt like a corpse. She wanted to lay and rot for a minute or two more… Those conflicting feelings brought nettlesome thoughts that caused her self-confidence to decay even more than it already had.

_Can I really do this?_

“Annette.”

Annette’s heart almost stopped. Someone else was here? She had told the guards not to let anybody else in! Swallowing hard, she looked back. When she noticed who it was, she felt as if she was about to faint… 

Edelgard von Hresvelg, heir apparent of the Adrestian Empire. The leader of the Black Eagles. The leader of _her house._

Through tear-obfuscated eyes, it was hard for her to decipher Edelgard’s expression, but it surely had to be contempt or disgust. They hadn’t talked much, but whenever she’d seen her around the monastery, the Imperial heir was usually so put together that she felt less like a young woman a year older and more a hardened military general.

“Annette,” she called again—but her voice was soft, caring… 

Annette blinked and dried her eyes in the sleeves of her cookie-decorated pajama shirt only to see lilac eyes brimming with compassion and a porcelain visage plagued with concern. That couldn’t be right, she had to be imagining it… Her heart was thrashing against her rib cage… She wasn’t sure what to do or if she really could do anything in this situation. So, she forced a smile that stretched wide across her face. 

Annette knew it had to look fake, but she couldn’t bring herself to stop. She had forgotten about sobbing and just did her best to keep smiling… There was so much that she wanted to say, but she couldn’t figure out any appropriate—or sensical—sentences.

Edelgard sighed and sat on the floor next to Annette, cross-legged. She seemed hesitant at first, her eyes darting around the room before she placed a gloved hand against Annette’s back and rubbed. Her movements were slow and jagged, like a pebble being dragged across a paved road, but Anette appreciated the affectionate act; so much so that she couldn’t help but sob again.

She cried without restraint, letting all the pain and frustration out. She couldn’t care if it was shameful. She couldn’t care if Edelgard was judging her. It felt _good._

She lost herself in the intensity of her emotion to the point where she couldn’t think of anything else. Eventually, she shut her eyes, blocking out the world. She was sure the guards came in at some point, but she didn’t hear them over the sound of her own crying; she hoped that, somehow, they’d be gone.

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed—maybe fifteen minutes, maybe thirty, an hour?—but when she reopened her eyes, the back of her head was pressed against Edelgard’s lap and she was gazing up at her. Once she noticed that Annette had opened her eyes, a bright smile stretched across Edelgard’s face, and even though she had just finished crying, Annette could see her relief.

“Do you feel better?” Edelgard asked.

Annette nodded feebly. “Yes,” she said, her voice like sandpaper. “Much better… Thank you, Lady Edelgard.”

“That’s good. I’m glad. I hadn’t expected to find you here in tears. Oh, but I suppose that was thoughtless of me to say.”

Annette chuckled, though not because she had found anything Edelgard had said funny. She had found her own weakness so pathetic that she just had to laugh.

“That was still quite the fall, though, Annette. Are you all right?”

Her body still ached, but it wasn’t as painful as her poor, sore throat. She nodded and tried to get up, dusting the dirt from her pajamas. She smiled, but this time she didn’t have to force it… Even though she was embarrassed, she was happy that she had someone come to her aid. Even if it was Edelgard.

“Thank you, Lady Edelgard,” Annette said. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“But I did,” Edelgard said. “And I’m quite glad that I did as well. As house leader, the thing I’d want the least is for any of my classmates to be upset. Even if you’re a new addition.”

Annette’s cheeks went red and she raised a hand to the back of her neck. “Ah, your kindness is, er, unwavering I see… Not that that’s a bad thing, of course! It’s really good, actually!”

“Annette.”

“Huh?”

“Sit next to me.”

Annette did as instructed without hesitation. She placed her hands on her knees and hugged them close to her body as she turned to look at Edelgard. It was hard to figure out what she was thinking—but then, it had always been like that. In all honesty, she had seemed nice… But Annette had always suspected there was something else there. She had seemed a little too perfect in her eyes; a complete package of stellar grades, good looks, a good physique, and most importantly, a handle on her emotions.

It was something Annette had admired, but couldn’t begin to comprehend. Perhaps it was just how they raise the heirs of Adrestia, with some vigorous training regiment. Thinking it true for a moment, Annette felt some pity for her but wrote the whole thing off as baseless speculation concocted by a fatigued mind.

“So,” Edelgard started. “I see you’ve been working hard. Are you worried about the White Heron Cup? You’ve been dancing every night.”

“Well, yeah I’m a little worried—wait!” Annette blinked. “How do you know that?!”

“I heard about it.”

Annette’s blood went cold. If she had heard about it, then… people knew! It wasn’t like she couldn’t expect people not to know, though. And, those guards did love to talk. The embarrassment just seemed to have been piling up, and she would have cursed under her breath if Edelgard wasn’t around. She was tempted to ask: _Who did you hear it from?_ But decided against it. 

Instead, she asked, “Is it bad that I do that?”

“Do what? Dance every night?”

Nibbling on her bottom lip, Annette nodded. “Yeah. What do you think?”

Edelgard didn’t answer right away. She raised her thumb to her chin and closed her eyes, contemplating an answer. Each second felt like a minute to Annette, whose anxiety was bubbling over. It felt like her head was trapped in a guillotine; the anticipation alone felt lethal.

“No and yes,” Edelgard said, her lips curled into a sheepish smile. “I’d say it’s not. Because it’s obvious you’re overworking yourself. Your extreme reaction was enough to show that it’s evident that you’re not someone who can handle so much pressure.”

Annette had hoped that Edelgard would put the positives first. Even though she knew that they were to come, Edelgard’s words upset her—and the fact that she had allowed Edelgard’s words to upset her when she knew more was to come made her downright miserable. 

Her face soured as the self-deprecating thoughts poured in and made her mind cloudy. Pouting, Annette looked at the ground and mumbled, “I knew it…”

“But,” Edelgard started, pulling Annette’s attention back to her, “I think that it’s positive, too. I think that it shows a lot of your character. The fact that you’re willing to work so hard for the Black Eagles when you’ve only spent a few months with us is extremely commendable. Not to mention that your amount of dedication and persistence is almost inhuman. I don’t think any of the other members of the Black Eagles would go to the lengths that you have. And I think that’s something about yourself that you should be proud of and celebrate.”

Annette heard those words, but they took a second to register. When they did, she wasn’t sure how to feel. On one hand, she appreciated the praise. A lot. Having _Edelgard von Hresvelg_ of all people tell her that she was admirable was something that most people in Adrestia would kill for. She should’ve considered herself lucky—special, even—but those words were also a reminder of expectations.

Expectations that she might not live up to. Expectations that could cause her downfall. Expectations that scared her…

“Annette,” Edelgard called. “You’re staring off into space. Is everything all right?”

“Oh!” Annette blinked, whipping her head back. “Yeah, yeah! Sorry for worrying you, I was just thinking!”

“Oh? What about?”

Annette gulped and forced a smile. “It’s nothing you should worry about! Promise!”

Edelgard sighed and grasped Annette’s hands. “Annette. I need you to talk to me. How else will we conquer whatever is evidently bothering you?”

“It’s… that obvious, huh?”

Edelgard nodded. “I would like to help if you’d allow me. I can’t force you to tell me, but at the very least, I can let you know that I’m here for you, Annette.”

The smile that graced Edelgard’s face touched her soul… It was serene, comforting—like a warm blanket on a winter morning. With it, Edelgard had made her intentions more clear than ever. She cared; Annette knew that—and she was getting more and more frustrated that she had found it so difficult to talk.

She let out a loud, spiritless sigh that made her throat sorer. “You’re right... I guess it’s just a lot at once, you know?”

“Oh.” Edelgard raised an eyebrow. “What is?”

“This whole thing!” Annette exclaimed before slapping her hands over her mouth. She glanced around the room a couple of times and used her inside voice next she spoke. “This whole thing... Like, there’s more to it! But I don’t want to say anything that’ll offend you or anything.”

“Huh?” Edelgard blinked. “You don’t want to say anything that’ll offend me?” Looking to the side, Edelgard paused. “I... doubt you’d be able to. I don’t think I’ve done anything wrong recently.” Looking back at Annette, she let out a soft sigh. “But seriously, just say whatever you want to say. There’s no need to limit or filter yourself. Promise?”

Edelgard extended her right pinky. Annette stared at it for a second before wrapping hers around it.

“Promise,” Annette said. “Just... let me think about how to put it into words. It _is_ a lot, you know?”

Edelgard nodded. “Take your time.”

“Okay,” she answered before going silent for about five seconds as she attempted to put words to her feelings. “So, like, I guess I think that you’re a little bit scary?” Her voice became small as if the words were being squeezed inside of her throat. “Please don’t be mad, by the way…”

Edelgard’s eyes widened. “I’m… frightening?”

“Please, please, please don’t be mad,” Annette begged.

“I’m not mad… More so, shocked, I suppose. I hadn’t expected that I had frightened you _that_ much. I had always done my best to be amicable… Might I ask why you think so?”

“Well, you’re always so put together and perfect! You always seem to have everything figured out! And you’re stern and stuff and I feel like you’re always judging me for being… you know, _not_ perfect. I don’t know! It might be silly, maybe I need to go to bed and have a better night’s rest, but it’s just how I’m feeling right now!”

“Annette…” Edelgard squeezed her hands. “I have to start by saying what you’re feeling right now is completely all right. We have our emotions for a reason—and if I’ve made you feel self-conscious, I deeply apologize. While I might not understand what you’re feeling to the fullest extent, I have to say that I’m not as perfect as you think. Far from, actually. Though you’re not the first to tell me that you see me as perfect. I can assure you, however, that I’m not.”

“I know you’re not, but it doesn’t seem like it! Like, I know… but just! _Ugh!_” Annette slapped her hands against her forehead. “I don’t know, I’m probably not making much sense.”

Annette turned her solemn gaze towards the floor, hanging her head in shame. She felt confused and useless, two emotions she’d grown to hate experiencing around Edelgard. No matter how she tried to slice it, it always felt like Edelgard was so much better than her. She understood that she probably wasn’t perfect… but she couldn’t shake the feeling of her own inadequacy.

“Well, Annette,” Edelgard said before taking a brief pause. “I’m sure it does make sense to you. And that’s largely what matters. You have your feelings and emotions for a reason and even if you think they’re silly, they’re still important. I think that it’s good that you’re talking to someone about them, even if it’s just me. Talking about things like this, admittedly, is a weakness of mine. But a weakness can always become a strength with hard work and conviction. And if there’s something you’re good at you can become even better at it.”

Annette cocked her head and asked, “So, you’re saying you want to get better at solving the issues of others…?”

“Well, in a way. I’m still to be the emperor of Adrestia. I would be a poor emperor if I was unable to listen to the concerns of my people. But I wasn’t talking about _me_, Annette. I was talking about _you._ Even though you feel weak—might be weak by your standards—that doesn't mean that you can't become strong. If strength is what you seek, then if you search long enough, you’ll find it. With your conviction as your motivator, success is a certainty.”

“Geez, that’s philosophical, but yeah. You’re right. I trust you. If I keep trying, I’ll get where I want to be. And where I want to be is the victor of the White Heron Cup! I want to win that huge trophy!”

A weak smile stretched across Annette’s lips as her cheeks went as pink as carnations in full bloom. Even though the enthusiasm in her voice was watered-down due to the hoarseness in her voice, the conviction backing her words was real. 

_Even if I’m weak, I can become strong._

She repeated those words in her head like a mantra before releasing Edelgard’s hands and pulling herself to her aching feet and beginning to stretch. She started by doing two leg holds with the right leg, then the left, letting out a small groan every time her foot reached her head. 

Her eyes went to Edelgard, who was still watching her with a smile. Even though her gaze didn’t feel intimidating in the slightest, she couldn’t help but look away, her cheeks reddening more.

“Um, did you want to keep watching?” she asked, her voice quiet and brimming with nervousness. “Because I’m about to, um, dance now…”

“Would you mind if I did?” Edelgard asked.

“No, no, just… no one’s really seen me do it before, you know?” Annette placed her right hand to the back of her neck and her lips tugged to the left. “It’s a little embarrassing… Usually, I do silly little dances that go with songs that I make up. I’ve been trying to dance, like, professionally. But it may look really silly because I don’t _dance_ dance. Uh, I hope you get what I mean! I’ve actually never trained before, like, had professional training.”

Edelgard blinked. “You’ve never had an expert teach you to dance? But you can do leg holds so effortlessly. You’re very flexible.”

“I guess so? I just read about how to do them in a book I found here at the monastery. I don’t think it’s all that impressive.”

“I’d disagree,” Edelgard said, shaking her head. “It took me a while to learn to do them myself. They’re far from easy. I’d dare say you’re extremely talented. Especially if you were able to just learn how to do it just from reading it in a book.”

“Ah, thanks. I usually don’t pick up things so easily, thinking about it now. I have to read and practice over and over.”

“Well, now I’m certainly intrigued,” Edelgard said, hugging her knees close to her chest. “Perhaps your talents extend to dancing as well.”

Annette let out a low, dry chuckle. “After that fall, I wouldn’t think so.”

“Well, you _have_ been practicing every night. And you hadn’t just started, either. I’d say it’s more likely due to those factors that you fell, rather than you just being a poor dancer, supposedly.” Edelgard stood, sliding a hand down to her hip. “In fact, I think you could use some aid. Has the professor begun coaching you?”

Annette shook her head. “She hasn’t. But I wanted to ask her to soon. Maybe she’ll know a couple of ways on how to help.”

“Well, why don’t I help you instead?”

Annette placed her finger against her chest, her eyes wide. “Me? You—you want to help _me?_ You, Edelgard von Hresvelg, are going to help _me_ learn how to dance?”

“That’s correct, yes. Is there a problem with that?”

“No! No! I just! I hadn’t expected it! I guess I should’ve. You were talking like you’ve been dancing for a long time.”

“Since I was nine.” Edelgard took Annette’s hands and rubbed her thumbs along her velvety palms. The feeling of cotton against her skin was enough to loosen her tight, stress-wracked shoulders a bit and pull a quiet sigh from her lips. “Shall we go through the routine you’ve learned?”

“Oh! Yeah, we can! But that’s a solo and I don’t have it quite down yet.” Annette took a brief pause. “But if you want, there _is_ something you can help me with right now… It’s something I haven’t been practicing and I need to be able to do.”

“Oh? What is it?”

Annette bit her lip, her unfocused gaze falling to the floor. “Waltz with me?”

Her voice was like the mewl of a frightened kitten, her lack of confidence taking the forefront. She couldn’t even look at Edelgard after that. Asking her to do something like that was so embarrassing. She tried to think of Edelgard as an equal, but she couldn’t deny the reality that dancing with the Adrestian princess in the dead of night was something right out of those cheesy romance books she read when she was younger—and that it was something some people would die for.

Edelgard chuckled and slid a hand behind Annette’s back. Her shoulders jutted upwards and a gasp caught in her throat. She hadn't expected that reaction as an answer. Regardless, she exhaled through her nose and let her shoulders fall again before placing her hand atop Edelgard’s shoulder.

“Certainly,” Edelgard said, her lips curled into a charming smile that could make a heart melt. “Let’s dance.”

* * *

**Day 21 of the Verdant Rain Moon, 1182**

Annette’s second attempt had gone far better. Even though she had struggled to keep on her toes for the finale, it was due to the aches and pains in her body more than anything else. Otherwise, she was able to perform with grace and finesse. It was an exemplary showing fitting of a professional terpsichorean—not someone who had only been dancing for two years.

Letting out a small sigh, Annette rolled her shoulders and headed for the glass of water she had left near one of the pillars. Once she reached her destination, she picked up the glass and rested her back against the wall, but as she did, her eyes widened.

“Edelgard?!” Annette squeaked.

Edelgard stepped out from a shadow in the corner of the room, her elaborate set of red and black armor and heavy crown both missing, leaving her in only the black the bodysuit that Annette had seen her wear around her and the other girls who used to be in their Black Eagles class when they were by themselves.

“Hello, Annette,” Edelgard said as she rested her back against the wall, folding her arms. “I see that you can still dance as beautifully as ever. I’d even dare say your performance made me emotional. Well done.”

Edelgard began to clap for her, but as the sound echoed throughout the training hall, Annette couldn’t react in any way at all. Her stare was blank, eyes fixed on nothing in particular as she processed what had just happened, she then stood up and pointed a finger at Edelgard.

“Ugh! _You’re evil Edelgard!_” she screamed.

Edelgard blinked and cocked her head, confused. “Excuse me?”

Annette cringed, almost dropping the glass once she realized that she had such a barbaric reaction towards the _emperor of Adrestia._ “Oh, uh! Never mind! Sorry, Emperor Edelgard! That was rude of me!”

“Annette.” Edelgard pouted. “New rule. When it’s just us, we will be _Annette and Edelgard._ Just Edelgard. Treat me as you would have when we were classmates.”

Annette’s lips stretched into a shy smile. “I think you don’t see the irony in that statement, but okay... Whatever you say, _Just Edelgard._”

Edelgard sighed. “Good. Now, can you explain to me what I did wrong?”

Annette raised a finger, signaling for Edelgard to wait before downing the glass of water in only a few loud, greedy gulps. She let out a loud sigh before inhaling deeply and screaming, “_You watched me dance!_”

“Did you really have to do all of that before saying that. And couldn’t you have told me that a little more quietly, too?”

“No!” Annette stooped down and placed the glass on the floor. “It’s about getting the point across!”

Edelgard pushed her fingers against her forehead. “Stop shouting so loudly. You’ll alert the guards. But back on topic, why can I not watch you dance? I was the one who coached you two years ago.”

“Well, yeah!” Annette whisper-shouted. “But you could’ve seen me mess up! Like, fall on my face or something!”

“I’ve seen you fall on your face plenty of times before.” Edelgard shrugged. “Seeing you do so one more time isn’t going to alter my opinion of you or your skills as a performer. I’ve always said that you’re extremely talented and I still stand by that opinion even now. You’re a wonderful dancer, Annette.”

“But you could’ve seen me fall on my face _now!_” Annette didn’t have any retorts left, and she couldn’t stay mad at Edelgard. She appreciated both the honesty and compliments; Edelgard was always great at giving her praise. “Look! Just come here so we can hug it out or something!”

Edelgard turned away, her cheeks kissed as pink as a spring rose. “Ah, yes... ‘Hugging it out.’ Okay, let’s...”

Edelgard began to walk over and Annette met her halfway, still pouting. They stared deep into each other’s eyes, sharing a moment of silence, the difference in their gazes like night and day. Annette’s was standoffish and proud, like a show dog about to compete; Edelgard’s was much more akin to a cornered animal—weak and hesitant. Annette initiated first, slapping her arms around Edelgard’s back, who soon followed suit, wrapping her arms around her general’s lithe frame.

They didn’t speak, Annette only let out a low hum like sweet birdsong as she enjoyed Edelgard’s warmth. Edelgard’s hugs were the best. She wasn’t sure what it was about them. Perhaps it was how her grip was the perfect balance between being tight and gentle. Perhaps it was how she’d let out soft little whines sometimes. Or perhaps it was how Annette _loved_ to imagine the silly faces she made over her shoulder. It was all three, more than likely, but all she knew was that she loved them.

Edelgard spoke first, her voice shaky. “Do we, um, really have to do it like this?”

Annette bit her lip. “Do you not like it?”

“No, no, it’s nice,” Edelgard reassured. “It’s just… I’m a little more confused than anything else, truly. Why are we hugging?”

“Because it’s nice and you like it. Duh.”

Annette could feel Edelgard’s cheeks heating up. “I see.”

“And I’m still mad at you for watching. Weirdo.”

“You’re the weird one if anything…”

Annette huffed and took a step back, placing her left hand atop Edelgard’s shoulder and raising her right with hers. “Since you’re _just Edelgard_ now if you want to watch, you have to practice with me. Deal?”

Edelgard sighed and placed her arm around Annette’s back, then smiled. “Deal.”

Annette began to hum a slow tune that would lead them in dance. She was great at managing both melody and footwork as long as she had a skilled partner.she knew few more skilled than Edelgard, and fewer she had more chemistry with. Even though they had both changed in mind and body—a consequence of the war plaguing Fódlan—their chemistry on the dance floor was unrivaled. They moved like the wind and flowers during spring.

Their bodies did the talking for the entirety of the dance—especially their faces. The soft smile that lingered on Edelgard’s lips had been coded with a thousand messages of friendship, trust, and care. Annette was sure that the goofy smile that she was sure she was wearing had said the same. Since she felt the same. When they danced, it was almost as if they threw away their titles and could be themselves again. No longer were they emperor and general, they were Edelgard and Annette.

As Annette’s song reached its conclusion, Edelgard let out a small sigh and stepped back, still grinning. Annette was, too, feeling refreshed. She truly didn’t know how much she needed that dance.

“Um, thank you, Annette,” Edelgard said, placing her hand at the back of her neck. “I enjoyed dancing with you.”

“I enjoyed dancing with you, too!” Annette confessed, her voice going quieter as she spoke again. “It was nice… Like old times!”

“Yes, like old times…” Edelgard’s smile faded and she lost eye contact for only a moment. “Annette, I wanted to apologize for something that I couldn’t get my mind off of. I struck you on the night that you had just returned from Varley territory a few weeks ago. It was wrong of me and I shouldn’t have done that. I hope you can forgive me.”

Annette placed a hand on Edelgard’s cheek and tilted her head upward. The two looked each other in the eyes and Annette was sure to wear her best smile trying to tell her that it was all okay.

“Hey, I’m not upset about it, I promise,” Annette assured. “In fact, I understand that this war does things that can sometimes make you feel like you’re not yourself. I felt hurt at first, but I understand. Like you said, everyone everywhere wants to kill you. That can’t be an easy thing to live with. Especially if you’re always trying to keep your composure for the sake of your people, and managing war plans, and all the other stuff you have to do.”

“It’s really not,” Edelgard chuckled. “But you do know me well.”

“All of us Black Eagles do. We’re your friends, you know? We’re here whenever you need us.”

“I know… It’s just… difficult to ask for help sometimes. Or to learn to. All my life, I’ve gotten everything by my own merit, and I’ve only needed to rely on Hubert, if anyone. Truly, I hadn’t been expecting any one of you to help me take Garreg Mach two years ago. You can imagine my surprise when all of you did.”

Annette placed a hand on Edelgard’s shoulder. “You seem to want to talk about some things. Do you… want to make tea and have a chat? I don’t mind.”

Edelgard blinked. “You’d have tea with me at this hour?”

“Depends. How early do you have to wake up tomorrow? If you have important stuff to do, I would hate to keep you up.”

“Well, the earliest errand I have to run tomorrow would be after noon, so… I suppose I do have time for tea, yes. But hopefully, our chat over tea won’t take too long. I’d still like to be moderately well-rested.”

“I’ll take as much time as you want to take. You can talk to me Edelgard. As long as I’m not busy, I’ll always have time to talk to you and all my friends about whatever you want. I promise.”

Edelgard’s smile came back, brighter than ever. “I’d like that.”

Annette beamed. “Great! Then I’ll get the tea! Would you like something to eat also? I can make some pretty great treats if you’d like!”

Edelgard chuckled. “I’d rather not plague you with another inevitable cooking mishap.”

“_Hey!_” Annette pouted. “This time I promise I won’t make a big explosion like three weeks ago! Two days ago I made a great meal! Ferdinand, Bernie and I had lunch, and the two of them said it was great!”

“Oh? What was the meal?”

“Saghert and Cream! A perfectly fine sweet treat! Made _without_ blowing up the kitchen.”

“Really, now? Perhaps you’ll have to make it for me sometime. But until then, those strawberry tea cakes that come in the packet are fine enough for me.”

Annette nodded. “All right! Let me go get everything! It’ll only take a second!”

She dashed off, faintly hearing Edelgard sigh before shouting, “Be safe, Annette!”

* * *

The trip back to the training hall felt like a punishment she wouldn’t even dare give to the more disobedient of her soldiers. Walking around the monastery at night was difficult enough without having to balance a teapot, saucers, teacups, a tea caddy, and tea cakes on a salver.

She had managed to be savvy with her technique, placing the two packets of teacups and angling them so that if they fell, they fell towards her, but that was the best she could do. Each step was cautious and methodical as if she was sneaking through an enemy base. Her eyes shifted up from the ground and back down again constantly, kicking away stray pebbles waiting to cause a disaster.

Once she had reached the training hall, Edelgard was sitting cross-legged, waiting for her. Annette didn’t speak as she walked in. She set the salver, then fell on her back on the floor before releasing a loud groan.

Edelgard chuckled. “I’ll pour the tea, Annette. No need to worry. I’ll take everything back as well, so you can rest.”

Annette sat up and shook her head. “No, no. You don’t need to do all that, really. I could tell you the same thing, you know. We all need a rest, and you’re more important to the Adrestian Army than I am, you know?”

“While that may be true, you’re still important to your soldiers, possibly more so than I am to them.” Edelgard picked up the tea caddy, and as her gaze fell to the emblem on the top, the Crest of Seiros, she smiled. “I see you brought Hresvelg Blend. I’m flattered. Thank you, Annette.”

“It’s no problem really,” Annette said. “But just know you’re pretty important too!”

“I know. But when we’re together like this, we’re equals. Never forget that.”

Annette smiled and nodded and Edelgard began setting up. She pulled the tea cakes out of the floral cups before opening the caddy and placing one tea bag in each cup. She then set one saucer in front of herself and one in front of Annette before picking up the swan-inspired teapot and pouring their water.

“Thank you,” Annette said before she raised her teacup and blew on her tea.

“Be careful, it’s hot.” Edelgard passed her a packet of tea cakes. “Here.”

Annette took the tea cakes and beamed. “Oh! Thank you again!” She opened the packet and dipped one in the tea before nibbling it. “So, talking. What’s on your mind, Edelgard?”

“A lot of things.” Edelgard frowned. 

“Well, I know a big one that you’re worried about is the plan to attack the Great Bridge of Myrddin. I hear you talking about how it needs to be perfect a lot.”

“Yes, it does. I’ve even begun to dispatch soldiers from the monastery to various camps near that location. Luckily, if we needed to send more troops it wouldn’t be too long a march. Hubert intends to rendezvous with General Bergliez there with the Vestra Sorcery Engineers.”

Annette raised an eyebrow. “Which one? Randolph or Caspar’s dad?”

“Both.”

“Ah.” Annette sighed. “I hope Caspar’s doing okay out there. He’s been gone for a while now, you know?”

“He will be,” Edelgard assured. “I have faith in him and I know he’ll return to the monastery safely. I’m certain of it.”

“Okay, that’s good.” Annette sipped her tea. “And how are Dorothea and Sylvain doing in Enbarr? Have you heard from them recently?”

“I received a letter from Dorothea the other day, actually. She and Sylvain are doing well. And she’s told me that business at Candlelight has been booming.”

“That’s good… and no word from Linhardt, I’m guessing? And… well, not a peep from Marianne, either?”

Edelgard shook her head. “None. I suppose Linhardt is doing fine, though. He’s probably too—”

Annette giggled. “I’ll save you the trouble and say you want to say ‘_lazy_’?”

“I was going to say ‘_busy._’” Edelgard smirked. “But yes, that as well.”

“I hope they’re both okay, then. I’ll hold you to that. I expect a letter from Linhardt… sometime within the next three months! Is that shooting too high?”

“To the moon,” Edelgard chuckled. “I’d personally give it six.”

“Six, then.” Annette nodded. “Sounds great! And here’s to hoping we hear from Marianne eventually, even if it’s after the war. I know living in Leicester complicates things. But at least knowing she’s likely… alive? Is good enough for me.”

Her lips curling into a thin smile, Edelgard nodded. “Yes, I’m certain she’s doing fine… Marianne is strong. She would be able to conquer anything that comes her way.”

“Talking a little fondly of her there, hmm?” Annette scooted around until she was beside Edelgard. Lightly poking the emperor’s shoulder, she giggled, “You have a crush?”

Edelgard sighed. “Don’t be ridiculous. You sound like Dorothea right now.”

“Hey, in her absence one of us has to!” She beamed. “Plus, I saw the _tiny_ smile that showed up. The real one, not the one you kind of forced just now.”

“How did you—?”

“After the whole Flame Emperor thing, I wanted to make sure that I could at least try to read you. I never could’ve seen you being the one behind all the weird stuff happening at the monastery! Just so you know, I’m not as accurate as I’d like to be… but I think I can get it at least ten percent of the time. Uh, when it’s kind of obvious, really. You’re, like, one of the best liars I’ve ever seen.”

“I’m not sure that’s something I think I should be proud of, but,” she paused for a moment and her smile grew wider, “thank you, Annette. I must ask: when you found out I was the Flame Emperor, did you feel betrayed?”

“I did, yes.” Annette sipped her tea. “Very, very betrayed. I couldn’t believe that you had done so much wrong. It… really stung having to fight you in the Holy Tomb. There was a hole in my chest the whole time.”

Edelgard didn’t even attempt to hide the frown that plagued her visage right after she had heard those words. “Oh, I see. If it counts for anything, I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I had to hurt you and the others… I never enjoyed doing so. But for the good of Fódlan and for my dream, I had to. There was no other way.”

“I know. That’s why I don’t hold it against you now, and why I chose to follow you.. I’ve told you before and I’ll say it again, I chose to be here. I could’ve settled down and gone back to Faerghus, and that way I think that I could’ve at least pretended to be neutral, but since Rhea has the whole place under siege, I don’t think I could’ve gotten away with not being roped into helping fight the Imperial Army had I decided to go back. It'd be even worse if I helped take the monastery.”

Annette paused, raising her tea to her lips. A quick glance at Edelgard’s face told her that she was still feeling conflicted—and perhaps a bit guilty. It was one of the rare times that she could see Edelgard’s emotions on full display. The little hole she had poked into her dam of stoicism was enough to cause the whole thing to collapse.  
Annette understood the reason for her sorrow, and so, she set the teacup down and took Edelgard’s hands in hers.

She caressed Edelgard’s hands, rubbing her thumbs along the old scars that ran from her wrists along the back of her hand up to her knuckles and the bottom of her fingers. Edelgard never spoke about how she got them, but she thought the sentiment would be nice. In a way, it was her showing Edelgard that she had accepted all of her imperfections.

“But I still chose to follow you,” Annette continued. “I felt betrayed, but you didn’t turn out to be a bad guy in the end. You’re _still_ the friend I always had. Nothing’s going to change that, really. I know the Church is evil—the Church took something important from me that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get back—but even if it wasn’t, I might’ve still considered coming with you, really. If you truly had explained to me that you believe that you were doing what was best for Fódlan—for _everyone_, I think I still would’ve come with you. I don’t like making an enemy of my family and my country, especially for someone I only knew for a year, but I trust you. I want to be part of a positive change for Fódlan. One where my mother, father, uncle, all my cousins, and everyone can live happily! It sucks that this change might come at the cost of some lives, and I can’t say I have no regrets… But I think I’m doing what’s right. You promised me a better Fódlan, and I’m holding you to that, all right?”

“Annette…” Edelgard’s voice was shaky. “I… Thank you.”

“Hey. It’s no problem, really. I miss the Blue Lions. I miss my old friends. I miss Mercie. I miss my father, mother, and uncle. House Dominic may be an Imperial ally, but I can’t see them again so freely. But I have my friends in the Black Eagles… and that’s still something… Even if it hurts a lot of the days, I still have my friends here. Even though it’s not all of the Black Eagles, our little group is still nice. I put my faith in you, Edelgard. For you and your world; all of us have.” She paused. “You miss them, don’t you? The others.”

“I… I do. I miss them. I wish we could all be together again as a class. While I know that dwelling on those days now is of no benefit, I… I can’t help but feel solemn about them. That I ripped their worlds apart. Ripped your world apart. Without me, you probably could’ve been living happily…”

“Maybe. I dunno.” Annette gave a cheeky grin. “House Dominic is the least important noble house in Faerghus—and I’m not even the heir. I’m sure I’d probably be nothing but a commoner girl to most people. One who was lucky enough to have a Crest, of course. Can’t forget that.”

A dry chuckle escaped Edelgard’s lips. “Perhaps, but… it’s still something I can’t help but think about if I’m honest. I wish we all… could’ve been together, normally, sometimes. That we could all live peacefully in Fódlan, that there was no war. But for my grand ambitions, I had to.”

“And you don’t have any regrets, right?”

Edelgard shook her head. “I do not. Had I been presented the same chance to declare war on the Church of Seiros, I would’ve done it in a heartbeat. I trust in my vision for Fódlan. It’s one that only I can achieve.”

“Good! And I would follow you all over again. And then I would have this same conversation with you all over again. Because you’re my friend. And hey! About getting the Black Eagles together! We can still have our reunion in three years. So, let’s make sure to end the war before then, and we can have a big party to celebrate!”

Edelgard nodded. “That sounds like a fine idea, but… there is still… one person who can’t attend.”

Annette bit her lip as she felt her heart sink to the depths of her chest. She understood better than anyone how their professor’s death had affected them; she knew even better how much Edelgard idolized that woman. Not many people could touch hearts like Professor Byleth could. Annette knew the extent of her kindness all too well.

“I know you’re still torn up about the professor.” Annette slid a hand around Edelgard’s smile and forced a smile. It was bittersweet, but a smile nonetheless. “And I know that we can’t get her back, but if you need to cry, I’m right here. I’ve never heard you grieve or even talk about her, so… If you want to cry” She winked. “It’ll be our little secret. Promise.”

Edelgard chuckled, tears streaming from her lilac eyes. “Thank you, Annette.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 𝓐𝓾𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓻'𝓼 𝓝𝓸𝓽𝓮:
> 
> Hey, everyone. Sorry for this coming out later than intended. I was being a perfectionist about this chapter and I had to deal with some issues in real life.
> 
> But I'm hoping to update regularly again soon!
> 
> Thank you all for waiting!

**Author's Note:**

> You can also follow me on [Twitter here](https://twitter.com/Hierarchycal) if you wanna chat or for updates regarding this work!


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